


Hold the Chain Too Tight (Release Me from My Nightmare)

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Abuse, Abuse of Authority, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Best Friends, Blow Jobs, Contracts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Family, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Frottage, Good Intentions, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Massage, Master/Slave, Near Death Experience, Past Abuse, Protectiveness, Punishment, Rehabilitation, Romance, Slave Trade, Slavery, Torture, Trust Issues, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-13 10:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 131,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many people call them Supervisors and Correctees but the master/slave dynamic is sickeningly obvious to John. He had no intention of ever taking part, but circumstances leave him little option. Soon he is the resigned ‘supervisor’ of Bane, a man forced into manual labour to atone for an irreversible choice twelve years prior. Despite their strained situation, Bane and John realize that they have more in common than they first thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Contract

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> **Warnings** : Although I do not consider these triggers to be explicit enough to be in the above tags, I want to make a clear warning. This story revolves around slavery and abuse, which means there will be a tiny bit of shown torture, and more implied torture and non-con situations.
> 
> **Story Information**
> 
> *This started out as a fic prompt given to me by relevantlyirreverant ages ago and then it grew from there. Thank you Menirva for the awesome idea :)
> 
> *For the story I created Bane's 'legal name' using Bane's wiki page, combining a name used for his alter ego and an alias he used.
> 
> **The Contract**
> 
> I would strongly encourage everyone to read the contract as it offers all the details as a baseline for the story, sets the tone of the story, and also offers a few hints for future chapters. The ‘contract’ drafted for the prologue is referenced from [this site](http://www.albanypowerexchange.com/TPE/slave_contract.htm).

__  
**The Contract  
**

_Dear ~~Samuel Tanner~~ ,   ~~Brian Marshall~~    ~~Sylvia Lotte~~    ~~Cameron Walsh~~    ~~Pat Flint~~    _

_~~Ben Kallingham~~    ~~Minnie Taylor~~    ~~Nate Innas~~     John Blake_

_Thank you for your interest in the new Criminal Correction Program. We received your application and, after careful consideration, you have been approved as a Supervisor to a Correctee for as long as you have the desire and means to maintain this role. Included in this document you will find further information on the program as well as details on the roles the supervisor and correctee must uphold which will serve as a legal contract binding the correctee to your supervision._

_Below is the name of the Correctee who has been assigned to you:_

__

**_~~Antonio Dorrance~~ _ **

**_Bane_ **

****

_Correctee identification number:_

**_15091977002_ **

_The duration of the Correctee’s sentence as of January 1, 2005:_

**_Life sentence_ **

_If you have any questions or concerns that this document does not address, do not hesitate to contact our program help desk at: **1-800-CORRECT (267-7328)**._

_*_

_Contents reference of the contract._

_1.0.0 Criminal Correction Program Purpose and Goals_

_2.0.0 Correctee’s Obligation_

_2.0.1 Correctee’s Role_

_2.0.2 Correctee’s Job_

_2.0.3 Correctee’s Veto_

_3.0.0 Supervisor’s Role_

_4.0.0 Uniform_

_4.1.1 Correctee Collar_

_4.1.2 Correctee Mask_

_4.2.0 Supervisor Armband_

_5.0.0 Penalization_

_5.0.1 Rules of Penalization_

_5.1.0 CCP Appointed Penalties_

_6.0.0 Supervisor Correctee Relations_

_6.1.0 Temporary Supervisors_

_6.2.0 Correctee Trades_

_7.0.0 Alteration of Contract_

_8.0.0 Termination of Contract_

_9.0.0 Correctee’s Signature_

_10.0.0 Supervisor’s Signature_

**_1.0.0 Criminal Correction Program Purpose and Goals_ **

_The Criminal Correction Program (hence referenced as CCP) has been developed as a new method of correcting criminal behaviour and providing a strong disincentive to those who may be considering any form of criminal act. The program also aims to utilize the physical and intellectual capital of correctees such that they can provide labour and support to the economy through work. In turn this program will allow for the end of overcrowded prisons by offering eligible correctees a more meaningful way of spending their sentence and repaying the community._

**_2.0.0 Correctee’s Obligation_ **

_The CCP works in conjunction with the pre-established legal system such that all correctees involved in the program have already committed criminal behaviour and have already undergone the process of attending trial and being sentenced. Many correctees have already spent multiple years of their sentence in a designated prison and will be working with the CCP for the remainder of their sentence._

_Because the correctee has already been sentenced, the CCP merely offers a second option for correctees to complete their sentence; their first option is to remain in their designated prison. All correctees taking part in the CCP have given informed, voluntary consent. All correctees are obligated to complete the CCP and follow the detailed rules for the duration of their prison sentence._

**_2.0.1 Correctee’s Role_ **

_The correctee agrees to submit to the supervisor and follow the rules established on this document as well as created by the supervisor when both parties agree. There are no boundaries of place, time, or situation in which the correctee may wilfully refuse to obey a directive of the supervisor without risking penalization, except in situations where the correctee’s veto (see section 2.0.3) applies. The correctee also agrees that, once entered into the CCP, all of the correctee’s possessions belong to the supervisor, including all assets, finances, and material goods, to do with as they see fit._

_The correctee agrees that their role is to please the supervisor and follow the supervisor’s guidelines to the best of their ability. The correctee also agrees that during the duration of their enrolment in the CCP they aim to atone for their past criminal actions, learn new appropriate behaviours and attempt to integrate into society in preparation for the end of their sentence._

**_2.0.2 Correctee’s Job_ **

_The correctee agrees to obtain and maintain employment as soon as possible upon entering the CCP. The correctee can either work for the supervisor directly or work elsewhere as long as the correctee and supervisor both agree on the type and location of work. All earnings made by the correctee for their work during the CCP belong to the supervisor and will be used, in part, to cover all expenses dealt to the supervisor for overseeing the correctee (including, but not limited to: rent, utilities, food, clothing)._

**_2.0.3 Correctee’s Veto_ **

_The correctee, where appropriate, holds veto power over any command given by the supervisor, at which time they may rightful refuse to obey that command. This power may only be invoked under the following circumstances, or where agreed by both supervisor and correctee:_

_a. Where said command conflicts with any existing laws and may lead to fines, arrest, or prosecution of the correctee._

_b. Where said command may cause extreme damage to the correctee’s life, such as losing their job, or permanent bodily harm._

**_3.0.0 Supervisor’s Role_ **

_The supervisor accepts the responsibility of the correctee’s body and worldly possessions, to do with as they see fit, under the provisions determined in this contract. The supervisor agrees to care for the correctee, to arrange for the safety and well-being of the correctee, as long as they maintain their role as supervisor. The supervisor also accepts the commitment to treat the correctee properly and to guide the correctee on appropriate behaviour and assist them in the process of integrating back into society as a productive, functioning member. The supervisor is also tasked with penalizing the correctee when they deliberately disobey or commit any criminal behaviour in order to discourage further similar actions._

**_4.0.0 Uniform_ **

_The supervisor is not required to wear any particular attire. Similarly, the correctee can wear any attire they choose as long as it is appropriate and the supervisor approves it. However, the correctee is required to wear a collar to signify their enrolment in the CCP, and the supervisor must wear an armband used to maintain control of their correctee._

**_4.1.1 Correctee Collar_ **

_All correctees will be issued a custom-fit collar to wear around their neck which will be marked with the correctee’s identification number. The collar must be worn at all times from the point of enrolment in the CCP until the correctee’s sentence duration ends. This collar acts as a symbol of their status and also provides reasonable assurance to the safety and well-being of the supervisor and other members of society when the correctee leaves prison to take part in the CCP._

_The correctee collar will be fitted with a GPS tracking device, the information of which will be available to any CCP administrator as well as the correctee’s supervisor. The collar will also be equipped with a small shocking device set to 30V as well as a constraining device, both of which will be connected with the supervisor’s armband. These devices should be used for penalization only and should not be abused._

_Any attempt by anyone other than a CCP official at removing the collar will trigger the constraining device, which will restrict the correctee’s breathing until death unless deactivated by the supervisor using the armband. This is to avoid any attempt or success of escape by a correctee before the duration of their sentence is complete._

**_4.1.2 Correctee Mask_ **

_Some correctees will be issued a custom-fit mask that will fit snugly to their head and cover their mouth. These masks are considered an extra safeguard for supervisors and the surrounding community, issued to correctees who have committed more dangerous criminal acts. The correctee’s mask must always be worn in public. However, while it is encouraged that the supervisor keep the correctee’s mask on at all times except when performing daily activities (eating, drinking, bathing), this choice is left to the supervisor’s discretion._

_The correctee’s mask is capable of silencing the correctee if the supervisor deems the correctee’s language inappropriate or dangerous. This can be completed using the supervisor armband, which will activate a cover on the mask over the correctee’s mouth._

**_4.2.0 Supervisor Armband_ **

_The supervisor will be issued a custom-fit armband that must fit snugly around the wrist to avoid it falling off or being removed by anyone other than the supervisor. The supervisor agrees to wear the armband at all times, even when bathing. The armband binds the supervisor and correctee together and also ensures the safety of both the supervisor and the surrounding community. The armband will be paired to the supervisor such that only the supervisor’s fingerprint will be able to activate the scanning pad, which provides further access to all buttons on the armband._

_If for some reason the armband must be momentarily removed, the supervisor must press their fingerprint to the scanner and maintain contact during the entire time that the armband is not in contact with the supervisor’s pulse point. Only the supervisor’s fingerprint can override the armband’s sensor that will always seek a live pulse._

_As a safety precaution to deter any attempts at escape or negative backlash by a correctee towards a supervisor, the supervisor must press their fingerprint to the scanner at least once every 12 hours. If the supervisor does not activate the armband within those 12 hours, or if the armband is removed from the supervisor’s pulse on their wrist without a fingerprint, the correctee’s collar will activate and constrain the correctee’s breathing._

_For further details on each feature, please read the enclosed instruction booklet._

**_5.0.0 Penalization_ **

_The correctee agrees to accept any penalization the supervisor decides to inflict, whether earned or not. If earned, the severity of the punishment may be increased in accordance to the supervisor’s wishes._

**_5.0.1 Rules of Penalization_ **

_Penalization of the correctee is subject to certain rules designed to protect the correctee from intentional abuse or permanent bodily harm. Penalization must not incur permanent bodily harm, or the following forms of abuse:_

_a. Blood may not be drawn at any time. Penalization must stop immediately if blood is drawn (unless agreed by both parties beforehand and providing it is not a severe danger to either correctee or supervisor)_

_b. Burning of the body_

_c. Drastic loss of circulation_

_d. Causing internal bleeding_

_e. Loss of consciousness_

_f. Withholding of any necessary materials, such as food, water, or sunlight for extended periods of time._

**_5.1.0 CCP Appointed Penalties_ **

_The correctee’s collar offers two types of penalties:_

_a. Shock. This can be used for warnings in order to dissuade the correctee from minor inappropriate behaviours._

_b. Breathing restraint. This can be used as a more severe punishment for illegal activities or when the correctee poses a danger to the supervisor or other members of society._

_The correctee’s mask offers one type of penalty:_

_a. Silence. This can be used when the correctee’s speaking is inappropriate or dangerous in any situation._

_All other forms of penalization are left up to the discretion of the supervisor as long as any chosen form does not violate any part of this contract._

**_6.0.0 Supervisor Correctee Relations_ **

_Upon entering the CCP, a supervisor may only sign one contract for one correctee. From the point of their signing the contract they will have a 1 year (365 days) probation period where they must prove they are adequately capable of caring for, assisting and controlling their assigned correctee. If, after the 1 year probation period is successfully completed, the supervisor wishes, they may apply for another or multiple other correctees. Their application will be considered, though it is warned that approval for multiple correctees is unlikely unless the supervisor owns a means of employment available for multiple correctees._

_Although it is discouraged for a supervisor and correctee to pursue a romantic or sexual relationship, the decision is left to both of the supervisor and correctee in question as long as all acts are mutually consensual._

**_6.1.0 Temporary Supervisors_ **

_Under no circumstances is the supervisor permitted to pass their responsibilities over to another as a temporary supervisor. All supervisors have been carefully selected and paired with their correctees. No one other than the supervisor is allowed to order, care for or penalize the correctee._

**_6.2.0 Correctee Trades_ **

_Under no circumstances are supervisors permitted to trade correctees. If an issue arises with a supervisor/correctee match then the supervisor must contact the CCP administration directly. From there the CCP administrators will look into the issue and deal with it accordingly._

**_7.0.0 Alteration of Contract_ **

_This contract may not be altered, except when both supervisor and correctee agree. If the contract is altered, the new contract shall be printed and signed in the presence of a CCP official. The old contract must be given to the CCP official present and filed for reference._

**_8.0.0 Termination of Contract_ **

_This contract may be terminated at any time by the supervisor, but never by the correctee unless their sentence duration has been completed. If the correctee has an issue with the supervisor/correctee match they must contact a CCP administrator and the issue will be attended to._

_Upon termination by the supervisor, the correctee will return to their designated prison. The contract will be kept on file by a CCP official, the supervisor’s armband will be returned to a CCP official and the correctee’s collar (and mask if applicable) will be removed until the time comes when the correctee is paired with a new supervisor. All materials and belongings will belong to the supervisor, to be shared or kept as they see fit._

_Upon termination when the correctee’s sentence is complete, the supervisor and correctee will travel together to a CCP office. The contract will be made void and kept on file, the correctee’s collar (and mask if applicable) will be removed and the supervisor’s armband will be returned to a CCP official. A CCP official will assist the correctee in obtaining renewed identification in preparation for rejoining society. The supervisor is required to leave the correctee with enough belongings (clothing, toiletries) and money to integrate back into society, though it is the choice of the supervisor and the correctee on whether the supervisor will maintain contact with the released correctee and continue to guide them._

_The only other circumstance that will lead to the termination of this contract is the death of the correctee. Death of the supervisor will merely change the contract to pending until the correctee can be reassigned._

**_9.0.0 Correctee’s Signature_ **

_I have read and fully understand this contract in its entirety. I agree to give everything I own to my supervisor. I understand that I will be commanded, trained, guided and penalized as a correctee, and I promise to be true and to please my supervisor to the best of my abilities. I enter the Criminal Correction Program voluntarily to atone for my past actions and learn to integrate back into society. I understand that I cannot withdraw from this contract except as stated in this contract._

_Signature:_

**_~~Antonio Dorrance~~                   Date: January 1, 2005_ **

_Bane_

**_10.0.0 Supervisor’s Signature_ **

_I have read and fully understand this contract in its entirety. I agree to accept this correctee as my ward, body and possessions, and to care for them to the best of my ability. I shall provide for their security and well-being and command them, train and guide them, and penalize them as a correctee. I understand the responsibility implicit in this arrangement, and agree that no harm shall come to the correctee as long as I am their supervisor. I further understand that I can withdraw from this contract at any time._

_Signature:_

**_~~Samuel Tanner                       Date: January 1, 2005~~ _ **

_~~Brian Marshall                        Date: February 19, 2006~~ _

_~~Sylvia Lotte                              Date: August 2, 2006~~ _

_~~Cameron Walsh                      Date: April 30, 2008~~ _

_~~Pat Flint                                  Date: September 14, 2009~~ _

_~~Ben Kallingham                      Date: March 8, 2010~~ _

_~~Minnie Taylor                          Date: June 23, 2011~~ _

_~~Nate Innas                               Date: November 15, 2011~~ _

_John Blake                              Date: April 12, 2012_


	2. Chapter 2

The whip cracked against Bane’s skin. It felt like someone was pouring liquid fire across his skin where the whip cut him open, his body almost numb to everything but the pulse of his heartbeat pushing blood sluggishly out of his wound. The heat of his blood seared his bare back, tickling the torn flesh and causing Bane to shift uncomfortably. His instincts told him to reach back and protect his back, his morbid curiosity seeking the feeling of brushing his fingers along the shredded skin.

 

Despite the urge Bane didn’t reach back. He couldn’t anyway; his wrists cuffed and chained to the metal fence to keep him in place. But even if he hadn’t been bound Bane wouldn’t turn around, wouldn’t give Nate the pleasure of seeing him squirm. Nor would he allow Nate to be his final kill – the one that would disqualify Bane from anymore ‘second chances’. The Criminal Correction Program was already Bane’s second chance; if he screwed up again he’d receive capital punishment. And as much as Bane _hated_ Nate, he wasn’t worth it.

 

Nate brought the whip down again against his back and Bane panted as the pain made his head swim. He closed his eyes tight and breathed in through his nose. Bane wouldn’t let himself bite his lip, knowing he would bite right through with this sort of pain. He had received whippings before but Nate seemed to be in a particularly bad mood today. Nate was probably furious that the city was forcing him to offer up some of his correctees to the police for extra work.

 

Bane normally only received two or three slashes whenever Nate felt like punishing him. Not that the whippings were ever fair since Bane saw no value in misbehaving, but two or three hits Bane could handle. They stung and the work hurt more the next day when Bane was forced to bend over, lift and carry heavy metal beams, lumber and stone that Nate’s other correctees prepared, but he managed.

 

However, today Nate had already snapped the whip against Bane’s back nine times – Bane winced, _ten times_. By now Bane knew it would take weeks for his skin to heal, and it was unlikely that Nate would get the skin properly tended. Bane was preparing himself for weeks of infection and re-opened wounds, his nails digging crescents into his palms as he swallowed down his groan of pain.

 

“Good for nothing slave,” Nate hissed, the whip coming down for its eleventh hit. “I told you to stop giving the others ideas!”

 

Nate liked to push his correctees so far that they committed another felony. That way their criminal sentence would be extended and Nate could keep them longer to work at his factory. Nate worked his correctees until they were broken and worn down, unable to complete their work, and then they were cast aside. Bane already had a life sentence so he was stuck here until his body finally gave in, but he saw other men and women who had shorter sentences. With good behaviour they could complete their sentence and get a second chance as a real citizen. So at night Bane would take anyone aside who looked too edgy – pushed to the brink and ready to make the mistake Nate was waiting for – and talk them down. Remind them that they couldn’t give Nate what he wanted.

 

No one was supposed to call correctees slaves, though no one enforced the rule; it made everyone too uncomfortable. Mainly because everyone knew deep down that supervisors and correctees truly were masters and slaves. But the free labour correctees offered in professions people didn’t want to perform – mainly manual labour or dangerous work – was invaluable and no one wanted to lose it. The country was willing to ignore their moral compass rather than lose the free labour. Even though there had been a lot of upheaval at the beginning of the program, everyone in power was doing everything they could to maintain the free labour.

 

Bane couldn’t argue back because Nate had already closed the opening in Bane’s mask, muting his words. Not that Bane would bother trying to defend himself anyway; when Nate got into a mood like this it didn’t really matter what anyone had actually done. Bane merely pressed his face against his arm and tried to will his thoughts elsewhere, his back throbbing. He didn’t know how much longer Nate would continue on – if he was even keeping track of the hits – but Bane knew he might pass out soon from the pain if Nate didn’t stop.

 

“Hey!” Bane heard someone shout in the distance, the sound brushing by Bane’s consciousness. He ignored it, knowing he would be no help if a fight was breaking out among the other correctees. But then he heard the voice again, closer and ragged with fury. “ _Stop it!_ ”

 

The twelfth hit of the whip was misaimed, the leather arcing across Bane’s shoulder and the back of his neck above his collar. Bane gave a muted cry at the immediate, all consuming agony that sparked at the base of his skull at the hit. He gripped the fence tighter just to hold himself up, his knees threatening to buckle under his weight. Bane’s vision spun and his stomach clenched, vomit halfway up his throat when he forcefully swallowed it back down.

 

Behind him he could hear a scuffle and a few curses. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he heard Nate shout, followed by the sound of a fist hitting skin.

 

The hit was followed by more shouts and the sound of a group of feet running towards them. The first voice that had approached didn’t wait for backup, still sounding furious. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the voice demanded harshly. “It’s against the law to draw correctee blood!”

 

“As if anyone gives a shit about the law,” Nate hissed. Bane finally managed to find stable footing. He leaned the majority of his weight against the fence. For a moment Bane tried to look over his shoulder to see what was going on but with his hands bound in place he was forced to twist his back to look. The sensation of his destroyed skin pulling taut was enough for Bane’s vision to momentarily blot out as though someone had spilled an inkwell over his eyes. He grappled at the fence and struggled just to keep from fainting, only vaguely listening to the escalating argument behind him.

 

“ _I_ care about the law! I’m a cop!”

 

“That doesn’t give you the right to interfere!” Nate roared. “I am the supervisor of this piece of shit which gives me legal authority to choose how he is penalized.”

 

“I don’t care! What you’re doing is wrong!”

 

“Why do you fucking care anyway? You can just back the fuck off!”

 

It felt to Bane like his head was full of cotton, his hearing fuzzy. Yet he could still make out the sound of another fist hitting skin and the shuffle of shoes skidding across the ground. That was when the other shouts drew closer. All the voices blended into a blurry mess that Bane couldn’t make out. He tried once to stand up straighter but each time he tensed his muscles his skin would tighten again and Bane would end up slumping back against the fence.

 

The voices bubbled up into a crescendo until one shout pierced through it all and the world seemed to fall silent. There were some muttered curses and complaints and they were hushed again. “Mister Innas, let’s go inside,” the voice that had finally silenced the fight spoke, calm and smooth. “By now my men and I have had enough time to look over your correctees. We should begin discussing terms.”

 

“Fine,” Nate grumbled. He had been complaining about the police ‘plotting to steal his best workers’ all week, but Nate sounded like he was perking up at the promise of payment. “We can go to my office. Follow me.”

 

A parade of feet walked away, conversation smoothing out as it drifted further from Bane’s ears. Bane resigned himself to leaning against the fence until negotiations were complete and contracts signed. He continued to breathe through his nose, his mouth still covered and doing nothing to help Bane’s laboured breathing. The sun was high in the sky and angrily hot for April, sharp and hungry on Bane’s bare skin.

 

Bane allowed himself to relax slightly, trying to loosen his arms and back muscles to avoid any unneeded tension that continued to torture his torn back. He drifted in and out of consciousness, wishing only for water and to lie flat on the ground and die. Bane had had too much of this life, with too many owners ready to take advantage of someone unable to fight back and defend themselves. He didn’t know how he would manage to keep working with the injuries he had sustained, and he had no doubt that Nate wouldn’t consider a break from work.

 

So wrapped up in his pain and misery, Bane didn’t pick up on the slow footsteps approaching. His attention was only drawn back to reality when he felt a hand touch his right shoulder – the only part of his back where his skin wasn’t cut open. Bane jerked away immediately, pulling with all his strength against the handcuffs in an attempt to escape. He had reached his threshold. He had endured too much.

 

Slick wetness trickled down the insides of Bane’s arms as the cuffs cut into his wrists but it only spurred him on. Bane was suddenly overtaken by the thought of ending this for good, for ending things on his own terms before Nate could push him over the edge and finish the job with slow, poisonous hatred and spite. Bane leaned all of his weight back and felt the tear of skin and muscles as the metal dug into his wrists deeper. He clenched his teeth together and tugged with more force, promising himself that it would be over soon.

 

“Stop! _Stop it_!” the voice demanded and then begged.

 

Bane ignored the voice until a man rushed into view, grappling at the cuffs and then Bane’s arms. The man’s hands skidded along Bane’s forearms, coated in slick warm blood but he didn’t pull away disgusted. Instead he grasped Bane’s biceps and leaned back with all of his weight. The stranger was shorter and leaner than Bane but he had enough strength and weight to him that he managed to counterbalance Bane’s force and ease the pressure of metal cutting into Bane’s wrists.

 

“Don’t let him win this way!” the man said viciously.

 

Bane wanted to tell this man that he didn’t know _anything_ , that it wasn’t about winning and losing. It was about finally finding some peace. He couldn’t say anything though, his mask set to silence him. Bane merely shook his head in the negative but when he tried to lean back again Bane found that all of the fight had left him in a rush. He didn’t have the will to cut his wrists deeper, or to pull against this stranger’s odd determination.

 

Bane gave in, lifting his arms slightly to allow the cuffs to dangle rather than dig into his skin. He wanted to lie down so badly, to rest his arms and back, but he was still chained to the fence and wouldn’t be able to leave until Nate released him. Bane allowed the unknown man to lead him forward and awkwardly rest against the fence, his back bowing shallowly as much as he could bear so that he could rest.

 

He saw that the man was fumbling in his pockets for something, seemingly blind to or uncaring of Bane’s blood smearing across the fabric of his pants. Bane could see that the man’s hands were shaking slightly when he pulled out a lock pick, and immediately Bane elbowed him away. Assisting a correctee escape was a criminal offence and Bane knew he wasn’t worth that. This man had a life ahead of him, police badge shiny in the sun.

 

The man huffed but hesitated. “Well I’m not just going to leave you here!” he snapped, lock pick held limp in his hands. Bane blocked another half-hearted reach for the cuffs, ignoring the spots of darkness dancing across his vision.

 

He watched as the man shoved his lock pick back into his pocket, more of Bane’s blood smearing across his pant leg. Bane waited for him to leave, to give up, but instead the man quickly pulled off his jacket and two shirts beneath. He hurriedly put his button-up shirt and jacket on again but held a plain white t-shirt in his hands. Bane watched the man tear the shirt into strips which he then wrapped around Bane’s wrists, stemming the flow of blood even though Bane knew he hadn’t managed to cut the arteries. The pressure on his cut wrists felt like a white hot flash of lightning up his arms but Bane could do nothing to stop him.

 

Once Bane’s wrists were haphazardly bandaged, the cop paced beside him. Bane didn’t know why this man was so insistent on helping him – he had never met a police officer that actually cared this much – but Bane just wanted him to leave. Bane wanted to rest for as long as he could before Nate came back out and sent him back to work.

 

Bane chose to ignore the cop as he paced, resting tiredly on the fence. But then the man spoke, quiet at first but then growing louder as his confidence grew. “I could bring you home with me. I didn’t want to become a supervisor but I refuse to leave you to this sort of treatment. Would you like to come home with me?”

 

Bane heaved a sigh and forced his vision to focus on the cop in front of him, who was watching him with big brown eyes filled with naive determination. The punch Nate had landed to his cheek was already starting to cause the man’s left eye to bruise. _What a fool_. It didn’t matter if Bane _wanted_ to do anything; that was the whole point. He had lost his freedom as punishment for his crimes. People didn’t ask Bane what he wanted. They made the decisions and he had no choice but to follow or be sentenced to death.

 

The young cop – and Bane could see now that he _was_ young, probably only late twenties with the hopeful flair in his heart still intact – seemed to think it was important for Bane to respond though, watching him and unmoving. Bane didn’t know how to respond. Over the years he had lost faith that he could find a supervisor who actually wanted to help give him a second chance; even the ones who had started out nice turned abusive before long.

 

But this man seemed soft, small and overly trusting. Bane might actually have a chance at escaping from this one. He could help Bane heal and then when Bane was back at full strength and health he could either outsmart the cop or physically overpower him. He might allow Bane to escape and if he didn’t Bane would fight for his freedom; the pale column of the cop’s neck looked weak and vulnerable.

 

Bane’s small smile was hidden by his mask. He nodded.

 

The cop’s face immediately smoothed over with relief. “Great. Okay, I’ll go in now while they’re already discussing the contracts. I’m John by the way.” Bane didn’t say anything, couldn’t. John remembered this with a grimace and brushed the lightest touch to Bane’s uninjured shoulder. “Hang on just a little longer okay?”

 

Bane grunted and remained where he was; all he was still capable of doing was hanging on. He watched John’s back as he rushed off towards the smaller building beside the factory that served as Nate’s office space. John seemed like a naive little firecracker, interrupting Nate’s punishment and getting into a fistfight before it was broken up by what Bane assumed were John’s superiors. Bane sighed and cast his gaze down to the ground. He missed having a spark of fire like that inside him.

 

Bane had no way of tracking how much time passed except for the sun travelling the arc of the sky. The sun beat down on him cruelly as Bane’s wounds slowly clotted. Bane continued to breathe in and out through his nose slowly, his body dehydrated as his dry tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He drifted in and out of consciousness as he rested on the fence, paying little mind to the other correctees who walked by him but offered no words of concern or comfort. Bane understood; it wasn’t worth the risk of getting punished. Nate didn’t like to see his correctees banding together.

 

At some point Bane must’ve passed out because he didn’t hear any feet approaching him. He only jolted awake when fingers pressed against his uninjured shoulder again, the touch as light as a feather on the breeze. Arms immediately hooked under Bane’s arms to steady him as Bane wobbled, saving him from falling and breaking his wrists with the cuffs that were stained red with blood.

 

When Bane lifted his head he found John there, brown eyes sad as he helped Bane keep his weight up. Bane could see a supervisor cuff on John’s arm, his hands washed clean of blood. Their eyes met and held and Bane wondered what he looked like to John, and why he had decided Bane seemed worth saving. The moment was broken when Nate stepped up to him, nasally voice pleased for the first time since Bane could remember. “I don’t know who’s luckier,” Nate said as he moved beside John, grabbing the cuffs with unnecessary force before slotting the key in to open them. “You, for convincing some poor sucker to take you, or me for getting rid of you.”

 

Bane’s eyes flickered from Nate to John but John seemed undeterred by Nate’s words. The cuffs snapped open and Bane carefully pried his wrists free, feeling dry blood and broken skin threaten to peel away where it was stuck to the fabric of John’s shirt when it caught with the cuffs. “Good riddance,” Nate spat by Bane’s feet and then walked away towards the small cluster of people a few paces away. Bane could see that there were three other correctees standing amongst the group of police officers, collars and badges showing everyone’s status.

 

“Are you alright?” John asked Bane when they were alone. Bane lifted a hand and tapped a finger against the metal of his mask, ignoring the pain coursing through his arm at the movement. “Oh, right,” John slowly left Bane to lean on the fence as he turned his attention to the supervisor armband around his wrist.

 

The armband was a little worn from Bane’s previous owners but it was clean; Nate had one master armband for all of his correctees – a special accessory given to supervisors with multiple correctees assigned by the program – so the armband specific for Bane had been left untouched for the last five months. The armband looked like a watch and it did in fact have a built-in clock, a small screen with a clock face and buttons on one side of the band and a small scanner for the fingerprint on the opposite side of the band where it rested on the inner wrist.

 

John tilted his wrist up to press his fingerprint against the small scanner and there was a small _beep_ , but then John hesitated, looking a little lost. He had clearly never worked one of these before and hadn't had time to read the instruction manual. Bane lifted his hand again and tapped against the top right button. He had seen enough supervisors use their armbands to know how they worked.

 

John considered the button Bane had tapped for a moment and then pressed it. There was another quiet beep and the cover built into his mask opened. Bane could have been lying but John had trusted him. Definitely naive. Or maybe even a bit stupid. Bane wouldn’t complain though, parting his dry lips behind the mask and filling his lungs with air. “Can you walk?” John asked him.

 

Bane thought seriously about that. He tried to speak but had to pause and clear his throat after hours of disuse. “Maybe,” he eventually said.

 

“We just have to get you to my car,” John explained. “It’s in the parking lot. Mister Innas won’t permit me to drive further onto his property.”

 

“Of course not,” Bane sighed. He could see the other police officers and chosen correctees glancing over at them, an air of impatience surrounding them. “No time like the present,” he said, more to motivate himself than for John.

 

“Would it help if you leaned on me?” John wondered, turning slightly to display his shoulder in offering before Bane even spoke. Very aware of the fact that the pain and his exhaustion would continue to drag him down until he crashed and was fully incapable of movement, Bane rested a hand on John’s shoulder and pushed himself away from the fence.

 

As soon as Bane moved he wanted to collapse and give up. The sun was still shining far overhead and Bane’s sweat stung his open wounds. It didn’t help that his full weight was clearly too much for John to handle, his body buckling slightly as Bane leaned more fully against him. John didn’t complain though, and he didn’t give himself enough time to adjust, or for Bane to give in. John took a small step forward and Bane was forced to follow him, stumbling forward.

 

He kept his groan of agony quiet, not wanting Nate to hear. But he knew John heard it. Bane expected a moment’s pause for him to get his bearings, and to figure out how to move without causing his back muscles to flex and shift with each twitch of his limbs. John wouldn’t give him the repose though, taking another step forward. Bane followed again, and then his hand slid from the fence and he was left without another choice. If he abandoned John now he would fall to the ground; he couldn’t make it back to the fence alone.

 

The only way to go was forward.

 

“Don’t blame me when you wake up with him strangling the last breath from your lungs,” Nate called to John as they approached the group. John said nothing in response and Bane looked towards the group as they approached. He knew the three other correctees, although not well. Brian and Derek were brothers from down south, experienced brawlers that would likely come in handy for the police.

 

The third was an older woman by the name of Dawn and Bane suspected that the police had chosen here out of mercy; she was approaching the end of her usefulness at the factory. Correctees who couldn’t work were a waste of money and resources and while other correctees elsewhere merely got cast off or sent back to prison, Nate’s older correctees had a habit of disappearing.

 

All three correctees watched him with sad eyes but they held his gaze as he looked at them in turn. Each of them gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement when their eyes met. Bane had always been the one to take the unearned punishments while other correctees at the factory were only penalized when they made a mistake. Perhaps Nate thought Bane could take it, or more likely Nate felt threatened by Bane. Nate had never comprehended the fact that making Bane the example left the other correctees in Bane’s debt and thus made him even more of a threat.

 

John continued to lead Bane forward step by agonizing step. Bane glanced briefly over the faces of the police officers but they all turned their eyes away, uncomfortable and hopefully ashamed of their own inactivity. All except one, who stared back at Bane for a long minute and then looked to John. “It looks like you need some help there.”

 

“I got him, Commissioner,” John said, not exactly unkindly. “Thanks.”

 

Bane said nothing as John led him towards and then past the group. In silence they continued across the grounds surrounding the factory until they rounded a corner and the parking lot came into view. By now the fire on Bane’s back had been reignited as some of the gashes reopened with the movement, blood trailing down his skin and soaking into his pants waistline. He was aware of his feet dragging, and of John practically pulling him forward now.

 

“John—”

 

“We’re almost there,” John promised him. Bane fell silent again and didn’t fight. John led him to a burgundy car and when they arrived John got Bane propped up against the side of the car before digging out his keys from his pocket and unlocking the doors. Then he opened one of the back doors, instead of the passenger door. “I know it’s going to hurt getting in and out. But I think you’d prefer to lie on your stomach rather than lean back against the passenger seat.”

 

Bane forced his eyes open and overlooked the back seats critically; the seats were a tan colour and Bane was still bleeding. “The fabric—”

 

“Can be washed,” John cut him off. “Let’s just hurry up and get you to the hospital.”

 

The thought of getting his wounds properly patched up was enough incentive for Bane to agree. With John’s help Bane managed to stand in front of the open door and slowly sink onto the back bench seat. The worst part was when Bane had to drag himself further into the car and curl his legs up so that John could close the door behind him, his hunched shoulder blades and twisting back straining all that remained of his skin.

 

When Bane was far enough into the car John pat his ankle and withdrew, the door snapping shut a moment later. Bane lay prone on the seat, struggling to breathe through the pain. It was hot in the interior of the car with the sun beating down on it and Bane grew fidgety as his nausea was reborn. John didn’t immediately move to the driver’s side door though, and Bane clenched his eyes closed and _prayed_ for John to come back so they could leave.

 

He could hear muffled voices through the car, a short exchange of words before the driver’s door was opened. Immediately Bane breathed deeply, relishing in the fresh and slightly chilled air that rushed in. “Sorry about the wait,” John said even though Bane knew it had probably only been a minute tops since he had entered the car. Bane listened to John slide into his seat in front of Bane’s head and set something on the passenger seat closer to Bane’s feet. “Gordon gave me your contract since I’ll need it at the hospital. And Mister Innas finally relinquished a bag of belongings for you so you have some clothes that will fit.”

 

The door was pulled closed and Bane immediately felt suffocated again. “Open a window,” he demanded roughly, fighting the sickness prickling the back of his neck as vomit threatened to rise up again. If he threw up now he would puke right on the seat. John started the engine and then Bane heard mechanisms drawing a window down. A small gust of fresh air brushed his cheek and Bane scrunched his eyes closed tighter. “More,” he commanded. “All of them.”

 

He could hear the other three windows slide down in unison and Bane sighed in relief as cool air swirled around him. Bane filled his lungs greedily as his nausea abated. “Is that okay?” John called back to him.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Okay, just tell me if you want me to close them,” John said as he shifted the car into drive and the world began to move beneath Bane’s body. Bane barely even caught John’s words, and didn’t come up with a response as his eyes slid closed with exhausted relief.


	3. Chapter 3

Occasionally Bane half-woke when John hit a pothole or bump in the road but Bane didn’t fully wake up until the engine cut out and he heard the jangle of John’s keys as he got out of the car. Bane cast his awareness around in search of some sign to indicate where they were but all he could hear was passing vehicles and distant chatter. He decided not to care and let his awareness fade in and out until the car door by his head was opened.

 

He heard John’s voice by his ear even though Bane didn’t bother lifting his head. “I’m so sorry, but we need to get you into the hospital,” John said regretfully. “I tried to find someone to help but there was no one around. So it’s just going to be you and me.”

 

“I will stay here,” Bane grumbled, still making no effort to move.

 

“I didn’t stick my neck out just to have you die in the backseat of my car,” John huffed.

 

“Then why?”

 

John gave a long suffering sigh. “I did it to save your life. So will you please let me continue trying?”

 

“But why me?”

 

“You’re stalling,” John accused. “The sooner you get up the sooner you can be seen by a doctor.” Bane remained sprawled on the car seat and said nothing. “Don’t make me order you,” John whispered after a moment.

 

Bane blinked his eyes open and tilted his head back. He could feel the narrow cut on the back of his neck pinch as his collar came into contact with the base of his skull, but he managed to catch John’s gaze. “You wouldn’t.”

 

He could see a tick in John’s jaw when he clenched his teeth together. “I would because it’s for your own good.”

 

It wasn’t much of a threat with John obviously dreading the thought of ordering Bane, but Bane knew John was right. He could be difficult about things but in the end it would only hurt him. John, despite what he had already done for Bane, wouldn’t suffer if Bane decided to just stay in the car until he starved or caught an infection. The sooner Bane got out of the car and got seen at the hospital, the sooner Bane could lie down again. He didn’t know where John was going to take him but Bane could hope that the cop’s initial helpful attitude was genuine.

 

“Open the door at my feet,” he told John, enjoying the way he got away with ordering his new supervisor. Whether John realized or not didn’t really matter; it was a pleasing thrill for Bane. “And then drag me out by my ankles.” Bane knew he had to get out on his legs; attempting to support his weight on his arms and curling his back until he could stand up would be disastrous.

 

“Alright,” John agreed and pulled away, shutting the door lightly by Bane’s head. A moment later Bane heard the door by his feet open and felt two hands wrap around his ankles. “Tell me if I should pause,” John said and then began to pull with slow but steady weight.

 

Bane winced with discomfort as his bare chest dragged against the fabric of the car seat but made no comment, knowing that if they stopped he wouldn’t want to start again. Bane allowed himself to slide along the seat without adding much effort, doing his best not to shift unnecessarily and disturb his back. Finally he felt his knees drop off the seat and although Bane grunted when his back strained, he moved his arms under him and pushed himself back until his feet landed on the pavement.

 

Bane bent his knees and steadied his hands against the edge of the seat, took a deep breath and then pushed. He stumbled but felt hands grabbing his hips, holding him steady until Bane found his own balance. Bane would’ve complained except he knew there was nowhere else for John to grasp without touching the cuts on his back. Still, as soon as Bane felt confident in his ability to remain standing on his own he knocked John’s hands away. The brief touch, however innocent, brought back unpleasant memories of Sylvia, Bane’s third supervisor.

 

“I didn’t mean—” John began awkwardly.

 

“It’s fine,” Bane cut him off, not wanting to talk about it. “Let’s just go.”

 

He lifted his head and looked around, identifying the hospital entrance and beginning to take slow steps towards the building. He heard John opening another car door and then shutting them both but ignored his new supervisor until John jogged up to match his pace. As they walked into the hospital lobby Bane glanced over and saw that John had grabbed the duffel bag from Nate before following him.

 

The hospital was crowded and loud and Bane immediately felt the heavy weight of multiple gazes on him. He saw some people looking over his bare chest and the scars marring his skin, and many others finding their eyes locked on his visible collar and mask. Bane continued to walk towards the front desk with John at his side, knowing that everyone would stare at his torn up back in passing.

 

Bane reached the front desk first but the nurse’s eyes skimmed over Bane like he was invisible. He was used to this treatment; in most places in society correctees were not acknowledged. John didn’t seem to notice as he stepped up beside Bane and the nurse turned to him. “This man was whipped and needs to have his cuts seen to.”

 

The nurse stared at John blandly. “What is your relationship to this correctee?”

 

John shifted his weight beside Bane. “I’m his new supervisor,” John told her. “His previous supervisor whipped him before he was reassigned.”

 

“I’ll need to see the contract and identification first,” she said, holding out an impatient hand.

 

Bane watched John fumble to open the duffel bag and pull out the contract which was set on top of the clothes. “Is it really necessary to do this now?” John questioned as he handed over the contract and then fished out his wallet to hand over an ID card. “He’s in a lot of pain and I’d like to get the paperwork started.”

 

“I need to confirm your authorization to have him here before we can begin paperwork or even think about treatment.” Bane leaned against the desk to keep himself standing, already prepared for when the nurse slipped fingers beneath his collar and dragged him closer to match up the identification number on his collar with the one printed on the contract. John made a disgruntled sound beside him as Bane was forcefully bent forward by the nurse’s fingers but Bane hushed him quietly, not interested in an argument starting now.

 

Once Bane was confirmed to match the contract the nurse turned her attention to the ID card John had handed over. Bane watched the nurse’s eyebrow rise at the long list of supervisors on the contract but she didn’t ask about it. After a moment she handed the contract and John’s card back to him, and then shoved a clipboard into his hands. “Fill this out and bring it back to me. I can’t process him until we have the paperwork.”

 

John looked over at him and then turned away from the desk, clipboard in hand. Bane followed behind him and they got two chairs together by a wall. John slipped the duffel bag under his chair as Bane slowly lowered himself down onto the second chair. He sat straight so that his back didn’t come into contact with the plastic backing of the chair. “They treat you like a child,” John laughed without amusement and looked down at the clipboard. _Lesser_ , Bane thought, but said nothing. “I don’t know _any_ of this information,” John said after a moment of studying the forms. “Can you fill this out?” he held the clipboard out to Bane. “I doubt you want to tell me all this information after we just met.”

 

John was right in that assumption but even the twitch of Bane’s wrist as he lifted an arm to take the clipboard left Bane breathless with pain. He dropped his hand back to rest on his thigh and closed his eyes, breathing through the pain. “Just ask me what you need to know.”

 

The cap on the pen popped off. “Full name?”

 

Bane had to think about it for a moment. “Antonio Dorrance.”

 

The pen scratched against the paper. “Nate called you Bane, which was also written on the contract.”

 

“Minnie, my second last supervisor who pawned me off to Nate called me ‘ _the bane of her existence_ ’,” Bane brushed over the story. “It stuck when Nate took me on.”

 

John looked over to him, clipboard momentarily forgotten. “What do you want me to call you?”

 

“Bane,” he said, and continued when he saw John’s questioning expression. “I am not the same man I was when I went to prison.”

 

John was silent and Bane steeled himself for a barrage of questions about his previous supervisors and life. Instead he just got, “Birth date?”

 

They worked through the form on the clipboard together. Bane knew that later he would be unhappy knowing he had given up so much personal information to his new supervisor – Nate didn’t even know this much about him since Bane had never been taken to a hospital – but at the moment he could only think about getting through the process to get his back seen. By now his cuts were drying again, dry blood cracking any time he shifted his weight.

 

“Emergency contact?” John asked, finally at the bottom of the form.

 

Bane could feel a thin sheen of sweat across his neck and shoulders, pain consuming and shortening his breath and temper. “That’s you now.”

 

There was a brief hesitation before Bane heard John’s scrawl against the paper again. “Finally done,” John let out a heavy breath. “You can just sit here and I’ll get this handed in.”

 

Bane had no intention of arguing, his eyes still closed. His forearms were on his thighs, propping him up so that he didn’t fall too far forward or backward. The hospital lobby was still loud but Bane focused on the sound of John getting out of the chair and walking away. Bane hoped everything would be simple but knew he would be without luck when he heard John’s voice rising. “That’s ridiculous!”

 

Bane peeled his eyes open to slits and lifted his head. John was standing at the front desk with the same nurse holding the completed clipboard in her hand. The cop’s shoulders were hunched up with tension, his face sour in the fluorescent lighting. “Sir,” Bane teased out the nurse’s voice from the general din of the lobby. “Correctees are placed at the end of the emergency list. They are only seen once all citizens are already cared for.”

 

John’s face was getting red. “What is _wrong_ with everyone? He is a human being just like everyone else in this room!” Bane noticed John’s hands curling into fists at his sides.

 

“These are the policies,” the nurse defended. “There is nothing I can do.”

 

“Listen, I have medical coverage and as his supervisor I am authorized to extend my coverage to him,” John’s voice was quivering with restrained anger. “Therefore, I _demand_ that you place my correctee on your list as though it was me.”

 

“Very well,” the nurse relented, looking just as red-faced. “But it’ll still be an hour.”

 

The argument had sent the lobby quiet, and Bane could feel more eyes glancing between him and John. In the echoing room Bane could hear John’s sigh, and watched as John’s fists unfurled. “That’s fine,” John said evenly. “Thank you.” Bane closed his eyes again as he heard footsteps approaching, John settling back into the chair beside Bane. “I’m sorry, it’ll still be at least an hour.”

 

“I heard.”

 

“Right,” John chuckled tiredly. “I could go to the pharmacy and get you some painkillers to tide you over until the doctor comes to get you.”

 

“You can’t,” Bane said, too tired to even feel bothered from having to remind John about all of this. “My mask cannot be taken off in public.”

 

“This is such bullshit,” John muttered to himself, mimicking Bane’s position with his forearms on his thighs. “Maybe I could tell you a few stories to distract you from the pain? I don’t know what sort of stories you’d be interested in hearing but—”

 

“John,” Bane cut him off, his body riled up with pain and his mood already plummeted.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You talk too much.”

 

“Oh.” John fell silent.

 

Bane looked over out of the corner of his eye and saw a blush overtaking John’s face, though from anger or embarrassment Bane couldn’t tell. Bane closed his eyes again and for a few minutes he enjoyed some peace. It wasn’t exactly quiet, the other people waiting in the lobby picking up their conversations again now that John’s argument with the nurse was over, but Bane didn’t feel obligated to listen to everyone else’s chatter in the same way his attention was drawn to John’s words right by his ear.

 

He wasn’t sure how long had passed when Bane started to feel an emotion he hadn’t experienced in over twelve years. _Regret_. It was an incredibly uncomfortable emotion to experience, one that sat heavy in his stomach and left him queasy. Bane tried to push it away, and then ignore it. Bane told himself that he shouldn’t feel bad about telling John to be quiet; Bane was in pain and just because John thought he was being righteous didn’t mean he actually understood anything about the situation he had just signed himself up for.

 

But the regret gnawed at him and seeped into his limbs like poison, somehow managing to make his back burn more viciously. Finally Bane gave into it. “Tell me a story.”

 

It took John a moment to respond. “I thought you said...”

 

“I know what I said,” Bane forced himself to speak. “I changed my mind.” John still seemed uncertain after being silenced earlier so Bane tried to think of a topic to prompt him with. “Tell me about what sort of work us new correctees will be doing for the police.”

 

“You don’t have to work for the police,” John told him quickly. “Especially while you’re healing. I didn’t sign the contract to bring you in for work. I wasn’t even planning on getting a correctee today; I was just obligated to come with the rest of my division.”

 

“And now you’re at the hospital taking care of a beaten-down life sentence correctee,” Bane pointed out. “You should’ve left me there.”

 

John shrugged. “We both know you probably would’ve died if I hadn’t intervened, either from the whipping or later with infection.” Bane kept his eyes on the floor. “I wasn’t comfortable letting that happen.”

 

Bane determined that John must have a lot of money saved away if he had become a supervisor on a whim and wasn’t even thinking about getting Bane work for a second income to support finances. Bane wondered how much Nate had made John pay for him, or if the price had been lowered. Judging by Nate’s words of ‘getting rid of’ Bane, and the fact that there was already an agreement that the police could get some correctees for a reduced price, there was a possibility that no money had changed hands at all. But Bane was a good worker, strong and intelligent and focused, so Bane knew he was valuable.

 

There was no way of knowing and Bane had no intention of asking John, especially not here in a crowded hospital. Nor was he going to argue about jobs. If John didn’t want Bane to work then Bane wasn’t going to complain with the prospect of having a break from work for the first time since he was young. He had even held a part time job to pay through college, right up until he was arrested.

 

Bane pushed those memories aside, surprised that he was being plagued by so many memories and emotions he hadn’t experienced in years. He had lost track of time but the doctor still hadn’t arrived and Bane’s body was growing achier and more pained the longer he sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair. Bane turned his attention to John, who clearly needed more prompting. “Well what are the other correctees going to be doing for the police?”

 

“Work no one else wants to do,” John said truthfully. “Mainly they’ll be helping to patrol the more dangerous neighbourhoods in Gotham if they’re physically able. I’m sure many cops would be happy to give the correctees their paperwork but with confidential information it’s not an option, at least not when they’re immediately brought onto the job.”

 

“And you think correctees will make a significant effort at keeping the streets safe?” Bane knew John couldn’t see the sneer behind his mask but he suspected John could hear it in his voice. “The last thing most correctees want to do is help the police.”

 

“They’ll be paired with their supervisors for patrol,” John explained. “If the correctee doesn’t do their job dealing with threats and keeping the streets as safe as possible, then their supervisor will eventually end up dead. After that...” John looked over at him. “As soon as the supervisor’s pulse dies the collar will kill the correctee. They sentence themselves to death.”

 

Bane thought back to what had only been an hour or so ago when he was cuffed to the fence. He remembered the instinctual force driving him to pull against the cuffs to sever the veins until there was no chance of survival; only a few agonizing moments to wait before he died. Bane had wanted to escape this life, the peace of death briefly acting as more of an incentive than anything else Bane had ever known.

 

It made him wonder if the police’s plan to keep the new correctees in line would work. Of course, Bane hadn’t met another correctee willing to actually attempt committing suicide like he had. And even now, despite Bane’s momentary flash of desire for death, he was sitting in a hospital seeking treatment to get better. He was putting up with a pipsqueak cop just for another chance at life, a tiny part of him that he thought he had buried still hoping that this supervisor might be different from the others.

 

He wasn’t sure what to say, or if he even wanted to say anything. Before he got a chance to decide he noticed a set of feet stride towards him and stop right in front of his chair. “Get up.”

 

Bane lifted his head slowly, holding back his wince when the cut on the back of his neck came into contact with his collar again. He levelled the middle aged man with a glare fuelled by all of his pain and saw the man noticeably wither, though he still didn’t back off. Luckily for the stranger, John spoke before Bane managed to muster up the energy to move. “What do you want?”

 

“I want to sit down while I wait for my wife and there are no more chairs in the lobby,” the man used the excuse to look away from Bane to John.

 

Bane could tell John was reaching the end of his patience, in no mood to be accommodating. “Tough shit.”

 

The man bristled where he stood. “Correctees are obligated to give up their seats for citizens. And as his supervisor it is your responsibility to order him to move and penalize him if he doesn’t.”

 

“And I said tough shit,” John stood in a rush. Bane noticed John’s hands binding into fists again and Bane quickly reached forward to grab his wrist, exasperated. He could understand John’s deep-rooted anger that was always looking for an opportunity to be released, but if John wasn’t careful then he’d end up as a fellow correctee before the day was out. The light hold on his wrist seemed to steady John slightly, though his voice was still barley calm. “My correctee is severely injured and you appear to be in perfect health. So if you want to sit, you’re going to take my seat.”

 

Bane watched the man’s eyes flick from the now-empty seat, to Bane, to Bane’s grasp on John’s wrist, to John’s badge on his breast, and finally back to John’s face. A look of disgust took over the man’s face. “I’m not sitting next to a Lifer,” he said, no doubt scared by Bane’s mask as most were. “He’ll snap my neck in seconds.”

 

To Bane’s utter surprise, he felt laughter bubble up in his throat before he managed to choke it back down. The expression on John’s face made it quite clear that Bane was not the one who was seconds away from snapping this man’s neck. Bane couldn’t remember the last time he had felt the inclination to laugh, let alone the last time he had nearly laughed without even thinking about it.

 

John took an extra half step towards the man, who shuffled back even though Bane reined John back in. “You take my seat or you don’t sit. Do I make myself clear?”

 

The man swallowed and nodded, and tentatively walked around John to sit next to Bane. Once again most of the occupants in the lobby were looking at them and Bane was surprised they hadn’t been kicked out of the hospital yet for disturbing the peace. Once the man settled in the chair Bane ignored him, releasing his hold on John’s wrist and allowing him to pace around and work out his anger.

 

A part of Bane wanted to goad the man sitting beside him, to relish in the victory. But he was too tired and merely closed his eyes again, listening to the pattern of John’s feet pacing in front of him until another set of feet approached them again. Luckily these feet belonged to a nurse, who beckoned Bane and John to follow her. Bane used John’s shoulder to stand up and then followed the nurse down the hall without a backwards glance to anyone in the lobby, John trailing a few paces behind him after grabbing the duffel bag from under the chair.

 

They were led into a small office with a medical table against a wall, and a desk and two chairs against the opposite wall. In the corner there was a counter with a sink and medical supplies organized into sterilized jars. It had been years since Bane was in a hospital and he found the smell of cleaner suffocating, hoping the visit wouldn’t take long even though he knew it would.

 

The nurse told him to sit on the medical table while they waited for the doctor, who would still take a few more minutes. John thanked her and set the duffel on one of the chairs and then got the stool in position for Bane to step up and sit down on the edge of the medical table. Bane wasn’t paying much attention to John, his focus drawn to the sink in the corner that had an insistent drip. John noticed where his gaze was wandering and looked over to the sink as well. “Thirsty?”

 

Bane grunted in admission but didn’t move. “I can wait until we are in private.”

 

“This is private enough,” John waved him off, walking over to the sink and grabbing a cardboard cup to fill it with water. He returned with the cup and set it on the table beside Bane’s thigh. Then he held out his wrist towards Bane. “Which button do I need to release the mask?”

 

There was no benefit to refusing to teach John how to use the armband effectively; Bane had no interest in having John make a guess and end up shocking or choking him. “There are six buttons on the armband for criminals like me with a mask,” he said. “The two buttons on the right side closer to your hand are for my mask. The top right one is for silencing and the bottom right button is to release the mask.”

 

John pressed his finger to the bottom right button immediately and looked a little frantic when nothing happened. “It didn’t work.”

 

“You’re too impatient,” Bane scolded him. “As a safeguard to ensure a button isn’t pressed accidentally and a correctee strangled or shocked unintentionally, you need to scan your fingerprint first. Then you’ll have a thirty second period where the clock face will be lit up. Only during that time will the buttons be active.”

 

He watched as John scanned his fingerprint, hearing the quiet _beep_ before John tilted his wrist back to look at the clock face and the buttons circling it. John pressed the bottom right button and Bane felt the reinforced clips holding the mask flush to the shape of his head open. Bane had to wait for John to carefully pull the mask away, knowing he couldn’t lift his arms high enough or reach back at the right angle to remove the mask himself.

 

As soon as the mask was gone from his mouth and head Bane grabbed the cup of water, slowly bringing it to his lips and tilting it back until cool refreshing water rushed into his mouth. He drank in greedy gulps and by the time John got the mask set on the medical table beside Bane the cup was empty. Bane held the cup out to John, who took it and returned it to him refilled without a word.

 

Bane finished off three full cups of water in quick succession before he finally had to force himself to slow down, feeling his stomach slosh with liquid when he shifted. He sipped the fourth small cup of water slower, pointedly ignoring the fact that John was staring at him with his mask off.

 

“What do you do about hair?” John asked him out of nowhere.

 

Bane kept his eyes on the far wall, uncomfortable at the sudden attention on his bared face. “The mask releases a chemical once a night that I breathe in while I sleep. It suppresses hair growth. It’s why you’ll never see a Lifer correctee with hair. It would get in the way of the mask and it would be too much of a hassle to get a haircut every few weeks, or shave every day for men.” He saw John’s slightly horrified look and felt the urge to continue, realizing he had finally found a receptive ear. “They pass it off as ‘ _easing correctee discomfort_ ’.”

 

John’s expression spoke volumes about his disapproval but the door clicked open before John could say anything. Bane looked over to watch a relatively young woman in a lab coat stride into the room. She jerked to a stop and tensed when she noticed Bane’s mask off and sitting beside him on the medical table, but then she schooled her features and turned to John. “Mister Blake?”

 

“Yes,” he turned and offered his hand, which the woman considered for a long moment before she shook it briefly.

 

“I’m Doctor Gale,” she introduced, closing the door and moving to set a folder on the office desk. “I’ve been informed that you are a new supervisor but I must insist that you replace Mister Dorrance’s mask immediately.”

 

“I was just getting him some water,” John defended.

 

“I understand,” she said. “But it is your obligation to assure the safety of me and everyone else in this hospital, which means that your correctee must wear his mask whenever he is a public location.”

 

Perhaps realizing that they wouldn’t solve anything with arguing, John grabbed the mask and approached Bane, who remained silent and still. Bane allowed John to slip the mask back on because even though he hated the mask with a passion, he was now desperate for some form of relief for his back. John met his gaze but Bane said nothing as the mask clicked into place.

 

Once the mask was back on the doctor seemed to relax, more open as she asked John to describe how Bane had received his injuries. She made a few notes in the folder and then approached the medical table. John hovered nearby as Doctor Gale told Bane to show her his wrists first. Bane always found it a bit odd that people seemed more comfortable around him when he had the mask on – if he really wanted to kill this woman then the mask would not stop him from snapping her neck.

 

Bane turned his hands palm-up and rested them on his thighs, exposing his torn wrists covered by the blood-soaked remains of John’s shirt. By now the blood had clotted and dried, and while his wrists were sore and no doubt bruised, Bane could already tell that the damage was not life threatening. Doctor Gale seemed to think similarly because she only made a quiet _tsk_ ing noise before she grabbed some items from the counter by the sink.

 

She slipped on a pair of gloves and then poured a tiny bit of water on each makeshift bandage with a cup. Once the fabric and blood were wet she took hold of one corner of the bandage and peeled it off slowly. Bane groaned as some of the fabric still stuck to his slit wrists but forced himself to remain still as his wrists were slowly exposed. He knew this was just the start of the pain he would experience as his wounds were treated, but that it would be worth it to avoid infection later on.

 

After Bane’s wrists were exposed Doctor Gale worked on cleaning them. None of the cuts were deep enough to require stitches or surgical tape so when his wrists were clean she bandaged them up properly. Next came Bane’s back and although he was getting quite tired of John hovering, Bane took advantage of his offered help to lie down on his stomach on the table without causing further damage to his wrists or back.

 

The process began again with Doctor Gale assessing each of the twelve cuts on Bane’s back and cleaning them all thoroughly. More than once Bane got scolded for clenching his hands into fists as he struggled to remain silent at the pain, the doctor worrying that the pressure would cause Bane’s wrists to bleed too much. Bane did his best to keep his hands loose but it was a losing battle, the pain unbearable each time Doctor Gale swept a disinfecting wipe along the deep grooves in his back, shoulder and neck.

 

It felt like the pain would never stop, like this was torture in disguise. But at last the gloved hands stopped touching his skin and he heard feet walking away to drop some soiled materials in the trash. “Five of the lashes are deep enough that I’ll need to help them close with stitches,” Doctor Gale said to John, though Bane listened intently. Although more than once he had feared passing out, the pain had not allowed him such a luxury. “I could give a few freezing shots but it’ll take longer and I can’t freeze the whole back.”

 

John was standing by Bane’s head at this point, and their eyes met. “It’s up to you,” John told him.

 

Bane briefly wished again that he had cut his wrists deeper and died before John could’ve sold him on the idea of second chances. “I’ll go without,” he said. “I just want this to be done.”

 

John looked back to the doctor, who was out of Bane’s sight. “Is there any chance we could put him under while the stitches are done?”

 

“It’s a possibility, but it’ll take even longer than the freezing needles.” Bane could hear Doctor Gale pulling off her gloves and throwing them out.

 

Bane reached over to catch John’s attention. When he lifted his arm he could see that some blood had seeped through the bandages on his wrist despite the fact that he had tried to avoid fisting his hands. The doctor would have to redo them before he left the hospital. John noticed the movement and looked over. “I can go without,” Bane promised.

 

John nodded. “Alright, that’s what we’ll do then.”

 

“I’ll grab everything I need and be back in a few minutes,” Doctor Gale told them.

 

The door opened and closed and then John was crouching down to meet Bane’s eye level where he was lying down on the medical table. “How are you doing?”

 

“About as good as I probably look,” Bane’s voice was rough.

 

John grimaced and glanced to Bane’s back. Bane was extremely grateful that he couldn’t see what his back looked like right then. “She may ask you to stay overnight,” John said when he met Bane’s gaze again.

 

“I don’t want to stay,” Bane argued immediately.

 

“It would mean you didn’t have to move around as much,” John reminded him.

 

It didn’t take Bane long to make up his mind; the smell of hospitals always made him think of sickness and death. “It’s not worth putting up with the smell.” John’s eyebrows furrowed but he didn’t question Bane further. John sat down in one of the chairs against the wall, both of them staring at each other as they waited for the doctor to return. “Why me?” Bane asked again since John hadn’t answered him in the car. “This is a lot more than most would deal with for a stranger, let alone a life sentence correctee.”

 

John rubbed the back of his neck but didn’t look away from Bane. “You seemed worth saving. And because I could actually help.”

 

Bane didn’t know what to say to that so he remained silent. John looked like he couldn’t decide what to say either, his eyes finally leaving Bane to make a show of reading all of the posters scattered around the room. Eventually Doctor Gale came back, wheeling a trolley up beside the medical table with all of her tools spread out on top. She lowered Bane’s table slightly and then grabbed a new pair of gloves to slip on.

 

“I would recommend that Mister Dorrance stay overnight,” Doctor Gales said as she got everything prepared. “It’s not mandatory but it makes torn stitches less likely and we can keep an eye out for infection.”

 

“I think he would prefer to come home with me,” John said. “I have some experience bandaging wounds with the police, and you can show me any specifics.”

 

“Alright, you can watch me do the dressing and bandages once the stitches are done,” she agreed and then turned back to the table. “Mister Dorrance, I am sorry to inform you that this is going to be quite painful. But I’m going to have to ask you to make sure that you do not move at all. Can you do that?”

 

“What about my wrists?” Bane asked, already preparing for the pain.

 

“Although I would be happy if you could avoid clenching your hands as well, I’m a realistic woman,” she said. Then Bane felt a latex-covered finger brush along the skin of his back. The touch was light as she traced the lashes, but Bane still had to swallow a moan of pain, his skin swollen and sensitive. “These are the five places I’m going to be stitching,” the doctor traced beside the five lashes. “It’ll only be a few stitches for each one at the deepest sections. The rest I can do with surgical tape. I’ll try to be quick and give you a break between each one.”

 

“Okay,” Bane’s voice was tight.

 

“And remember to breathe.” Bane closed his eyes before he could see the tools she was picking up. She touched her cool hand against his shoulder blade where she was going to begin. “Ready?”

 

Bane forced himself to breathe. “Ready.”

 

He had told himself that nothing could be as painful as the initial bite of the whip cutting open his skin, but he had been wrong. The needle piercing his skin was a different sort of pain, but each second it took Doctor Gale to stitch the lashes was an eternity of burning in hell. The needle and the stitching pulling his torn skin together set his nerve endings on fire, leaving Bane torturously aware of every inch of his body and the abuse he had endured.

 

To Bane’s horror he realized that he was crying, tears streaming from his eyes as his body trembled. Bane could remember the last time he had cried; it had been twelve years ago on the day Bane had been arrested, age twenty two at the time. John was standing at the top of the table by Bane’s head and talking to him while Doctor Gale completed her work, trying to distract him as his warm hand rested on Bane’s uninjured shoulder. John’s touch was as light as always but it was still the only thing keeping Bane from pulling away from the table and trying to run.

 

Bane’s only relief came when the needle finally left his skin and a second cool hand patted his arm. “You’re all done,” she promised him, voice warm and soothing. “I just have to bandage you up and you can finally rest.”

 

Bane breathed a sigh of relief and didn’t bother to say anything or move. John’s hand left his shoulder and Bane blinked away the last few tears caught in his eyelashes. He listened as Doctor Gale set her tools down and switched trays on the trolley, putting the tools on the second tier and moving the bandages up to the top. Then she removed her gloves, washed her hands, and put on her third set of gloves.

 

“Mister Blake you should stand beside me at the table. You will need to change his bandages twice a day for the first two days and then once a day after that,” she said as she moved back to the table. Bane watched John’s legs move from the head of the table down towards his hip. “After ten days you will need to bring your correctee back. We’ll see how things are healing and take out the stitches if all is well.”

 

“What about bathing?” Bane wondered.

 

“Go without for a day or two,” the doctor told him. “After that Mister Blake can remove your bandages and you can shower. Just be careful because soap may make your cuts sting.” After that she picked up a jar from the trolley and began to speak to John. “First thing you’re going to do is smooth some of this ointment over each lash. It’ll keep the cuts clean and also promote healing.”

 

Bane clutched his fingers around the edges of the table, preparing for yet more pain. However, as soon as the ointment touched his skin Bane moaned softly in relief. The chill of the gel seeped in and soothed his inflamed skin. He couldn’t even find the motivation to feel embarrassed by the noises he was making as the doctor worked on coating each lash on his back. He decided that he could put up with this, but tensed slightly when the doctor’s hand pulled away.

 

“Mister Blake, why don’t you put on a pair of gloves and you can do the last lash across your correctee’s shoulder and neck. I’d like to ensure you know what you’re doing before you leave the hospital,” Doctor Gale said. Bane forced himself to breathe, telling himself that John wouldn’t go through all this trouble just to start hurting him now; especially not in front of a doctor. He heard more gloves being pulled on and then hesitant feet approach the table. “Very light touch,” the doctor directed. “Just enough ointment to cover the broken skin.”

 

Bane felt John pull his collar down slightly, careful not to pull it against his throat, and then brush the ointment over the shallower cut on the back of his neck. Bane shivered, the touch so light it almost tickled even though it still felt relieving. When John spread ointment over Bane’s cut shoulder it stung a bit but it was still bearable, Bane breathing deeply and relaxing against the table.

 

The bandaging came next, the doctor taking care of the eleven lashes on Bane’s back and then allowing John to do Bane’s shoulder and neck again. Although Bane was unnerved at being forced to trust his supervisor on doing a good job, he was glad that the doctor was making sure John knew what he was doing before Bane was left in his care.

 

By the time the bandages were done Bane was more than ready to leave. Nate hadn’t allowed him breakfast that morning so Bane was starving, still thirsty and exhausted. It took all of Bane’s strength to push himself back into a seated position on the table and allow Doctor Gale to redo the bandages on his wrists before he was finally given the all-clear to leave the hospital.

 

Bane’s attention drifted away as Doctor Gale gave John a few more instructions, handed him a bag of ointment and bandages to put in the duffel bag, as well as a prescription for some antibiotics and pain medication. His thoughts were a haze, his eyelids heavy and drooping closed. Even when John nudged his shoulder Bane only half woke up, enough to grunt but not much else.

 

“Let’s get you home,” John said softly. It was an odd concept for Bane, ‘ _home_ ’. But it wasn’t worth commenting on so he remained silent as he forced himself to stand. “Thanks for everything, Doctor Gale,” John spoke for both of them as he got the office door open.

 

“Just give the hospital a call once you get him settled so you can book an appointment in ten days,” she reminded him from the desk where she had settled to write a few more notes in Bane’s chart.

 

They followed the hospital signs out to the lobby, Bane a pace behind John and following his lead. He didn’t bother looking around the lobby to see who was still there, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other. Bane’s back felt a little better with the ointment soothing away his pain and moistening his skin to keep it from cracking and tearing with movement, but the pain from the stitches still lingered as they walked outside and headed for the parking lot.

 

“You can sit in the front of you want,” John offered as they approached his car. “But I don’t know how comfortable it would be.”

 

“I’ll just lie down again,” Bane said, waiting for John to unlock the car before opening the back door and carefully lying down across the back seat. He was mildly relieved to see that there were only two small smudges of blood on the fabric; easily cleaned. Not that Bane greatly cared about John’s misfortunes but he figured after everything his new supervisor was doing for him the least he could do is not bleed on the seats.

 

“Feel free to sleep,” John said as he slid into the driver’s seat in front of Bane’s head and set the duffel bag on the passenger seat. “It’s at least a twenty minute drive from here.”

 

“Windows?” Bane prompted.

 

The car engine revved to life and a moment later the windows opened without another word. Bane listened to the _click_ of John doing up his seatbelt and then calmed further when the car reversed and a cool breeze snuck in through the open windows. Beneath his mask where no one would see Bane gave a tiny smile, and then promptly slept.


	4. Chapter 4

Bane didn’t wake up when John parked and turned off the car. He only drifted out of sleep when a hand brushed his shoulder yet again. It was more of a touch than Bane was normally willing to accept from a supervisor, and he didn’t like that it was already turning somewhat familiar to him, but he decided that today could be a day of exceptions and didn’t knock John’s hand away.

 

He blinked his eyes open and craned his neck to look out the back window as John moved around the car to open the door by Bane’s feet. He could see that the car was parked inside, likely in a parking garage based on the concrete ceiling and flickering lights scattered evenly in a line on the ceiling. Arriving at the location for his new assignment always left Bane filled with dread. For the first time since Samuel, Bane’s first supervisor, Bane was... _curious_.

 

John grabbed his ankles and dragged Bane out of the car, Bane pushing himself up into a standing position as soon as the angle was right. He rested his hand against the car, feeling the warmed metal from the sun as he found his stability and stretched out his legs. His nap during the drive had been short but restful, rejuvenating him with enough energy to at least get to John’s apartment.

 

He leaned against the car while John grabbed the duffel bag from the passenger seat and then locked up the car. John caught his eyes and gave a reassuring smile before leading Bane to the elevator. Bane rested his weight against one side of the elevator while John stood in front of the panel of buttons on the other side, the elevator ride slow and a bit awkward. Bane knew he should probably say thank you but couldn’t bring himself to voice the words.

 

The elevator stopped on the sixth floor and Bane followed John down the hallway until he stopped outside door 608, the last door on the left side of the hallway, and pulled out a key. As soon as the door closed Bane felt his eyes widening slightly, not in amazement but in shock. He had assumed John must be decently wealthy to have collected Bane on a whim, but his apartment indicated that John was anything but rich.

 

They were standing in a deep alcove by the door, with shoes scattered about and a coat rack against one wall with a few coats – some worn and others nicer. Immediately beyond the alcove was a living room, a couch against one wall with a small television set up across the room. There was a row of windows but no balcony, a few sagging plants set up on the windowsills for sunlight.

 

Attached to the living room with just a counter and cupboards as separation was a kitchen, a table shoved into the corner. The furniture and appliances looked well-maintained but old, certainly not new or expensive. Bane glanced to the right, in the opposite direction of the kitchen and saw a small short hallway with three doors, two on one side and one on the other.

 

Bane returned his attention to John, watching as his new supervisor shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes. John wasn’t poor; he seemed to have enough money to survive relatively comfortably. But there was no way he had the finances required to support a correctee on top of his own living.

 

John was a fool to say that Bane didn’t need to work, though there was no point in Bane saying anything about it now. The mere thought of working had Bane’s back throbbing with warning anger. It would be weeks at least until his back was healed enough to consider finding any form of work. Beyond that, Bane reminded himself that he wasn’t planning on remaining a correctee any longer than the time it took for him to heal enough to be capable of escape. By the time money became an issue, Bane would be long gone and John would likely be dead.

 

It twisted Bane’s insides; the thought of killing this young cop after John had already done so much for him. But Bane reminded himself that supervisors always turned out horrible if you gave them enough time to take advantage.

 

“This is it,” John’s voice interrupted Bane’s thoughts. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

 

“It’s...” Bane searched for the right word as he stepped out of his shoes. “Different.”

 

“Different?” John repeated, glancing back at him with amusement. “This is a pretty average apartment.”

 

“My previous supervisors have all been rich,” Bane admitted. “Most supervisors are.”

 

John’s face was turning red with embarrassment. “Oh. Well unfortunately I’m not exactly wealthy.” John stepped further into the apartment and started fidgeting with the rows of books on the small bookshelf by the TV, straightening out the spines. “I’ve pretty much been on my own since I was young.”

 

Bane refused to indulge his growing curiosity about his new supervisor, because the more he learned about John the harder it would be to remain detached. Feeling uncomfortable at John’s embarrassment, Bane brushed the topic aside. “I don’t mind. It’s not like my previous supervisors’ wealth benefited me in any way. All I need is a bed.”

 

John laughed, running his fingers through his hair nervously. “Yeah, about that...”

 

“There’s no bed?” The mere thought had Bane leaning his uninjured shoulder against the wall, feeling his body deflate.

 

“Well I wasn’t planning on becoming a supervisor,” John said, carrying the duffel bag further into the apartment on his shoulder and standing by the couch. “I have a spare room at the end of the hall but I’ve been using it for storage. I’ll need to clean it out and order a bed before it’ll be any good to you.”

 

Bane wasn’t one for complaining, especially to supervisors who normally either didn’t care or actively punished complaints. But by now the soothing properties of the ointment had worn off and Bane was ready to collapse. “John, I need to sleep.”

 

“I know,” John assured him. “You’re going to take my bed until I get the spare room set up.”

 

“I’m not sharing a bed,” Bane insisted, watching John’s shoulders tense before he turned around to face Bane again.

 

“No offence, but I’m not sharing a bed with you either,” John tried to laugh. It sounded a little forced and uncomfortable but Bane was relieved to hear that John wasn’t going to force him into bed. “Do you want some food first?”

 

Bane considered the offer for a moment. “I’m hungry, but I need sleep more. And I might use the bathroom. Which one should I use?”

 

John raised an eyebrow. “I’m not rich, remember?” This time John’s laugh was genuine. “There’s only one bathroom.”

 

“All of my previous supervisors ordered me to use a different bathroom from them,” Bane explained.

 

“Well I’m sure you’ll learn quite quickly that I’m not the average supervisor,” John said, a quirk to his lips. Bane was forced to agree, if only silently to himself. “Even if you wanted your own bathroom you’d be out of luck. Let’s get you settled.”

 

John motioned Bane further into the apartment, coaxing him away from the door. The promise of a bed and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep was enough to draw Bane away from the wall as he followed John down the hallway. John pushed open the first of two doors on the right side of the hallway to present a bathroom and then diagonally crossed the hallway to open up the single door on the left side of the hallway, revealing a relatively large bedroom.

 

“You can go to the bathroom and I’ll tidy up a bit,” John said, walking further into the bedroom and setting the duffel bag down on the dresser in the corner.

 

Bane nodded and headed back to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. It was a nice bathroom, if a little small. Bane relieved himself quickly and washed his hands, careful not to soak the new bandages on his wrists as he looked himself over in the mirror. His face and shoulders were tinted pink from when he had been left out in the sun but his face was otherwise clear; at least the parts of his face not covered by the mask.

 

It felt odd to be in this small apartment with John, his new supervisor. Bane hadn’t been expecting to be passed on to another supervisor; it had seemed clear that Nate had every intention of keeping Bane until he was broken. Bane had resigned himself to spending the rest of his likely shortened life at the factory. Yet now he was allowed to wander through John’s apartment, unsupervised and unrushed.

 

It was hard to remember after twelve years but he thought this might be what freedom felt like, minus the collar and mask. Doing what he wanted, when he wanted.

 

Bane lingered for a few minutes at the mirror, not particularly fascinated by his own appearance but just interested in testing boundaries. He felt a small swell of satisfaction when John never came to collect him or rush him along, leaving him to his own devices. He couldn’t stand in the bathroom forever though, eventually remembering his back and walking back out into the hall.

 

Re-entering the bedroom Bane saw that John had used the time to move his clothes from the floor to a hamper, and to tidy up the surfaces of his computer desk and dresser. John had a pile of clean folded sheets on the corner of the bed but Bane had no intention of waiting any longer. Now that his bladder was empty he was ready to sleep for a long time. John’s back was turned to him as he slid clean pillowcases on the pillows and Bane walked up behind him and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.

 

John turned slightly as he set the pillows on the bed. “At least wait for me to change the sheets,” he said, exasperated.

 

In response Bane shuffled towards the middle of the bed and lay down, sprawling out with his head resting on the clean pillows. “It won’t kill me.”

 

“That’s not the point,” John huffed but didn’t make any further effort to move Bane off the bed. He probably realized that there was no point, Bane already settled with no interest in moving again anytime soon. “Fine, whatever,” John conceded. “But at least tell me about the other armband buttons before you sleep.”

 

Bane didn’t even bother lifting his head from the pillow. “The two buttons on the left are for my collar. The top left one shocks and the bottom left one chokes. And the two buttons at the very top control the clock.” Bane reached down in search of the blankets but gave up when he felt his lashes pull beneath the bandages. “You can set an alarm to remind you to scan your fingerprint so I don’t end up dead. The details should be in the guide with the contract.”

 

“Alright.” There was a soft rustling sound and then Bane felt the sheets being drawn up to his shoulders, the duvet on top moulding the blankets to his form and immediately collecting warmth. “Yell if you need anything. I think I’ll wake you up around dinnertime to see if you’re ready for some food.”

 

Bane said nothing and, after a brief pause of silence, John stepped away from the bed. Bane heard the zipper on the duffel being drawn and the crinkle of paper, and then John’s feet traveled to the hallway and pulled the door closed behind him. Bane resituated his head on the pillow until his mask stopped digging into his cheek and rested his arms at his sides under the blankets, the warmth of his body building and soothing his tired muscles.

 

Despite his exhaustion Bane didn’t fall asleep right away. The curtain on John’s window wasn’t very dark and left the room brightly lit with the early afternoon sun, though that wasn’t the only thing holding Bane’s attention captive. Cocooned in John’s sheets Bane was swept up in a haze of John’s natural scent – some combination of clean laundry, cinnamon and… _warmth_. Bane had never before thought that _warmth_ could be used to describe a smell, and he puzzled over it for a long time, but eventually he decided it suited and allowed it to lull him to sleep.

 

#

 

 _Bane_.

 

Bane groaned and blinked his eyes open. Above him was a canopy of lush palms only half filtering out the sun, little beams of light passing through and dancing on his bare chest. He was lounging in a thick-rope hammock, his back smooth and warm against the knots supporting his weight. The sound of the surf wrapped around him. Bane threw one arm over his eyes against the sun, his other arm around a warm body curled up in the hammock with him. The person in his embrace leaned up and whispered against his ear.

 

_Wake up._

 

The dream surrendered him slowly, letting him drift back to reality. Bane was still on his stomach, his face buried against the pillows with his arms holding them close. This time when he opened his eyes he took in a bedroom, John crouching by the bed and watching him with uncertainty. The sun must’ve just set below the horizon, the darkness murky but not consuming as Bane’s eyes focused on John.

 

“Hi,” John’s voice was hushed. “How are you feeling? Would you like some dinner?”

 

Bane shifted on the mattress and then groaned, feeling how tight his skin had become after a few hours of inactivity. The movement also spurred his stomach with a demanding hunger, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in almost twenty-four hours. Bane felt hollow and utterly wretched and he could tell immediately with the pangs in his stomach that he wouldn’t be able to sleep without eating something.

 

“Food would be good,” he agreed.

 

The smile on John’s face looked relieved. “Good. Do you think you can make it to the table or should I bring something in here?”

 

The thought of moving sapped some of the calm instilled in him from the dream, but was not strong enough to steal that fleeting sensation of contentment from him entirely. “I’ll stretch my legs,” he decided, moving his arms slowly under him to leverage himself up. He saw John’s hand reach forward for a moment and then retreat, John standing and stepping back to give Bane room as he moved over to the side of the bed and sat up slowly. Although help might’ve been easier, Bane was glad to be given the chance to do this on his own.

 

Once John seemed satisfied that Bane was doing alright on his own, he excused himself and headed out into the hall. Bane remained seated on the edge of the bed for a few minutes in silence, still dozy from his dream. He couldn’t remember the last time he had dreamed of something so pleasant, or woken up so calm. Bane scolded himself and forced himself to stand, heading for the hall, but the slow pulse of his heartbeat still rushed in his ears like the ocean surf.

 

On his way to the kitchen Bane saw that a pile of blankets had been set on the couch in the living room, a hint of where John was going to be sleeping. Bane felt a twinge of guilt at stealing John’s bed and leaving him on the uncomfortable-looking couch, but his new supervisor had insisted and Bane wasn’t going to argue with that. He continued past the living room to the kitchen and found two toasted sandwiches set on plates on the dining room table.

 

“I didn’t have much on hand,” John said from where he was standing at the fridge, peering in and pulling out a jug of orange juice. “I hope the sandwich suits. Juice?”

 

Bane shook his head. “Water.”

 

John nodded and moved to the counter, filling one glass with his juice and a second from the sink tap. At the same time Bane moved to the table and carefully lowered himself down into one of the chairs, ensuring his back didn’t come into contact with anything. He could feel the stitches straining with the movement but the pain had lessened slightly since his whipping and the hospital.

 

Once the glasses were filled and set on the table John scanned his fingerprint and moved to Bane’s side to remove his mask and set it on the table beside him, beginning a new routine that would quickly become habit. Then John sat down opposite him, taking a big first bite of his sandwich and groaning happily. “I forgot to eat when we got home,” John said after swallowing his mouthful. “It’s amazing how much hungrier you get just missing one meal.”

 

“Imagine not eating for twenty-four hours,” Bane said under his breath, momentarily ignoring the sandwich in favour of some water.

 

John paused with the sandwich halfway to his mouth, eyes flashing to Bane. “You haven’t eaten in an entire day? What about breakfast at the very least?” Bane said nothing, knowing he didn’t need to put Nate’s cruelty into words. Understanding seemed to fall on John’s shoulders like a heavy weight and he looked like he wanted to punch something, but Bane watched as John reined in that anger again. John’s voice was low and controlled. “You won’t be treated like that here.”

 

Bane believed him. Still, “What is it you want me to do in return?”

 

John huffed an unhappy laugh, expelling his anger with his breath. “I didn’t really sign up for this with a plan. I just refused to watch Mister Innas treat you like that a second longer.”

 

“Just call him Nate,” Bane insisted, “He doesn’t deserve the ‘mister’. And I know you didn’t have a plan but I can’t imagine you being able and willing to just have me lounging around all day, every day.”

 

John took another bite of his sandwich, pausing before answering and reminding Bane to take his first bite of his own sandwich as well. It wasn’t amazing but it tasted good and it made his stomach hurt less. “Until your back heals you don’t have to do anything,” John said after a minute. “After that we can figure something out. Some cleaning and cooking would be helpful when I have my odd hour shifts, and you can get a job if you want. I just don’t want you to feel pressured.”

 

“I don’t think you were cut out to be a supervisor,” Bane informed him, his sandwich quickly disappearing.

 

“You don’t need a supervisor; you’re a grown man,” John rolled his eyes. “I would take off the collar if I could, but I can’t, so let’s just pretend we’re roommates at least. Promise you won’t kill me in my sleep and we’ll go from there.”

 

The sandwich – made with John’s own groceries just for him – threatened to lodge in Bane’s throat as guilt clutched at him. But what was Bane expected to do? Yes John’s promises sounded wonderful right now but from experience Bane knew it wouldn’t last. And even if it did, something would eventually come up and cause John to cast Bane off or leave him behind for another, far less tolerable supervisor.

 

Bane needed to find his freedom however he could, and even though John’s caring nature was making things a bit difficult for Bane’s moral compass, this was still his best opportunity. It wasn’t necessary in Bane’s mind to kill John – if he found an option to disable the collar and run while John was on one of these odd hour shifts he mentioned, that wouldn’t be opposable. But Bane couldn’t allow a soft-faced cop to placate him.

 

Bane didn’t bother trying to smile because he knew it would look more like a grimace. “I promise I won’t kill you in your sleep.”  

 

John’s smile was wry. Perhaps he knew that despite every preventative measure – the collar, the mask, and Bane’s promise – he was nowhere close to safe. “Good enough. At least if you try to kill me when I’m awake I’ll stand a fighting chance.”

 

Neither of them laughed and the rest of dinner was completed in awkward silence.

 

#

 

Bane woke up with sunlight in his eyes, feeling more rested than he had since college before he was arrested. He allowed himself a few minutes to stretch under the covers, careful of his back when the stitches reminded him that he was far from healthy. Still, even though Bane’s back was in a bad state, Bane actually felt somewhat _good_. It was amazing what a good dinner and a proper night of sleep could do.

 

The clock on the bedside table read 10:38; later than Bane had slept in since school. Feeling rejuvenated Bane sat up on the side of the bed and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He could feel the ache and sting of his torn skin on his wrists and back and knew that it wouldn’t be long before his body tired again, but for now he would stretch his legs and enjoy some movement.

 

Bane didn’t know what John was up to at this hour in the morning. He had mentioned the night before that he had the weekend off from work but hadn’t gone into any specific details about his plans. Bane could hear the faint sound of music through the closed door but no other hints. After the awkward dinner the previous night Bane wasn’t in any rush to see John again, even though he knew it was inevitable since his bandages would need to be redone twice a day for the next few days.

 

Instead of immediately walking out into the hallway Bane stood and looked around John’s bedroom, curious despite himself to know more about the cop who had saved him from Nate’s fury. The bed was a nice one, though it looked overly large considering the size of the room and John’s apparent lack of personal possessions. From what Bane had seen the apartment was filled only with items of utility, completely void of picture frames and mementos. It made Bane curious to know what had happened to make John so motivated to forget the past.

 

On the windowsill by the bed there was a potted fern that looked to be struggling to survive, similar to the other plants set up by the windows in the living room. The rest of the bedroom was filled with the large bed in the corner farthest from the door, a beaten-up dresser beside it, a closet in the corner at the foot of the bed with a mirror attached to the door, and a desk against the far wall.

 

Bane moved to the desk and looked over the darkened monitor. His fingers brushed briefly along the keyboard, keys clicking at the passing of his fingers. It had been years since Bane had been allowed to use a computer. Bane wondered if his email and other accounts had been deactivated due to inactivity, or if his inboxes were overflowing with spam. He vaguely remembered sitting at his desk in college, sometimes researching articles for a paper and other times getting distracted by TV or porn, but it had always been his choice.

 

It was a little jarring, remembering again how much he had taken for granted before being arrested. Bane could never forget what he had lost, was reminded of it constantly like a plague of regret. Bane knew now that freedom was in the small acts and choices and wasn’t just a big word or idea, but now it was too late to appreciate it. He had been granted no freedom or liberties in the last twelve years.

 

But now... Bane sat down in John’s desk chair and powered on the computer, body tense in case John heard as the computer beeped. Would John be furious with him? Probably. A tiny voice in the back of Bane’s mind whispered that John had been very understanding and fair so far, but Bane brushed it aside. The likelihood of John allowing him to use his personal computer was low, and asking would alert John to his intentions, which would likely end with Bane being shocked with the collar for the request.

 

As they said, it was easier to ask for forgiveness than for permission. And even if Bane didn’t receive forgiveness, he was well practiced in taking punishment.

 

The login screen came up and Bane moved his hand to the mouse, ignoring the sharp burn of pain in his wrist at the movement. He clicked on the icon in the middle of the screen, held his breath and released it in a defeated rush when he was prompted for a password. Not wanting to lock the whole computer and make John aware of his attempt, Bane quietly shut the computer back down and stood up.

 

The music from the hallway was still faint but continuous and by now Bane could feel his stomach clenching with hunger. Deciding that there was no value in pretending to be asleep any longer, Bane opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. He saw that the door across the hall from him was open, music louder now.

 

Bane leaned against the doorframe on his uninjured shoulder as John looked up from his task and gave him a smile. “Morning. I hope the music didn’t wake you. How are you feeling?”

 

Bane shook his head about the music and continued to look around before he spoke. He saw that John had not been lying about this room being used for storage. There were stacks of books, and an old TV being used as a doorstop. Bane could also see a stack of folding chairs, a box filled with clothes, and two more filled with appliances and what looked like blankets.

 

He found his attention caught by a beaten-up old laptop on the floor but forced himself to look back to John, finally answering John’s question and posing one of his own. “Rested, but my back feels like it might peel off.” John grimaced. “What is all this?”

 

“Stuff I don’t need,” John admitted with a sigh, rubbing his face and then looking around the room. “Since I was an orphan for most of my life I’ve gotten into the habit of collecting anything I can get for free. At first it was because I couldn’t buy anything myself, but then I got a job with the police. I had enough money to survive and figured I could sell all this off but I never made the time.”

 

“And it ended up here,” Bane surmised, struggling to keep his eyes off the laptop.

 

John held his arms out, “Welcome to the storage room of no return. Except now I need to clear it all out so you can have an actual bedroom.” As he said this he got up on his knees and shuffled over to sit in front of a different box, going through the old notebooks and novels packed away there. “I’m glad to finally get this cleaned out but it’ll probably take me all weekend.”

 

Bane watched John working, still against the doorframe even though his back was starting to protest. “What are you going to do with everything?”

 

“Originally I was going to sell it but that’ll take too long,” John reasoned aloud. “I think I’m just going to donate it to my old orphanage. They can make use of most of this stuff, I’m sure.”

 

That nagging curiosity clawed at Bane’s insides again, alongside a nervous hope. “Could I request keeping anything?” He saw John looking up at him and Bane rushed to speak again before he earned a punishment. “It might save you some money instead of having to buy me things.”

 

John studied him for a long moment and then shrugged. “Of course you can. I don’t think any of the clothes will fit you since _I_ outgrew them, but you’re welcome to anything else.”

 

“Anything?”

 

John raised an eyebrow. “Have your eye on something in particular?” Bane felt his eyes flickering to the laptop before he could stop himself, John following his gaze. Bane stood fully, considering taking a step back when John stood up from the floor. He wavered though, feeling his heart leap when John picked up the laptop and charger from the floor and passed it into his hands.

 

The weight of the laptop was painful on his wrists but Bane held it close anyway, unwilling to let this go. If this was a joke then John would have a hard time dragging the laptop back out of his tight grip. But John just smiled up at him and then brushed by him in the doorframe to begin walking down the hall, completely nonchalant. “It’s not the best computer but it can do the basics. I can get you the internet password after we get some food.”

 

“John,” Bane called after him, causing his new supervisor to stop in the hallway and turn to look at him. “Are you attempting to bribe me?”

 

“Is it working?” John chuckled.

 

Bane held the laptop a little tighter to his chest. “What do you want me to do?”

 

Immediately John’s smile fell away, replaced with a sad frown. “I don’t want you to do anything. I’m just trying to make a peace offering.”

 

“A peace offering,” Bane repeated.

 

John grimaced and brushed his hand over his short hair, fidgeting. “I know you have no reason to trust me. As far as you know I’m just like every other supervisor.” Their eyes met and held. “But I’m trying to show you that I don’t want that dynamic.”

 

“You traded me like an object,” Bane said. “And you have a constant threat over my head with the collar and mask. You seem like an alright guy,” Bane was willing to admit, “But there’s nothing you can do to change this.”

 

“I would get rid of the collar and mask if I could,” John promised weakly, though it was an empty promise because there really was nothing he could do.

 

“What if I killed you?”

 

John’s eyes narrowed with anger. “Then you’d be proving right all of those bastards who wrongly used your prison sentence as a justification to allow slavery!”

 

Bane was genuinely surprised. “You don’t agree with them?”

 

“I think my opinion is obvious.”

 

“Then what is your solution?” Bane prodded, tired of hearing people complain about the way things were with no idea on how to actually improve something.

 

John took a half-step closer to him and then wavered, looking embarrassed but determined. “I think you need a friend. Someone to support you and believe in you.” This time John didn’t hesitate when he took another solid step towards Bane, their eyes still locked. “And I want to try to be that for you.”

 

“A friend,” Bane echoed, almost amused at the naivety of this man.

 

John’s face flushed but he didn’t look away. “I know it’s cheesy. But yes.”

 

Perhaps if John had been his first supervisor, or maybe even his second or third Bane might’ve been willing to play along and explore this idea of friendship and support. That’s what the entire program was _supposed_ to be for, to give criminals a chance to gain work experience and re-integrate into society with a real _supervisor_ and guide to help them along the way.

 

But it was too late for those sorts of wishful thoughts. Too many times Bane had seen his well-meaning supervisors fall to temptation, and had been reminded of how many people there were in the world willing to take advantage of free labour. It was only a matter of time until John broke and spiralled out of control like all the others.

 

Bane released a heavy sigh. “You are foolish.”

 

“Maybe,” John said. “But I’m also stubborn.”

 

With that said John turned on his heel and headed towards the kitchen. Bane remained standing in the doorframe for a few minutes, his wrists aching terribly though he continued to hold his laptop close. Despite Bane’s words he was unable to fully crush the warmth of gratitude in his chest as he looked down at the laptop. Bane hadn’t been extended this sort of trust since college, since he was a free man.

 

It was beaten up and old, yes, and it probably wouldn’t run very fast but that wasn’t the point. The point was that John had willingly given Bane a huge freedom – without even hesitating! Bane had tried to sneak onto John’s computer because he figured his new supervisor would never allow him access to it knowingly. Instead John seemed entirely willing to give him access to his own computer, never mind just using John’s.

 

Bane did his best to ignore the gratitude, to remind himself that this could all be a ploy or a nice gesture before the inevitable downfall. But he knew to an extent it would be hopeless for him to control the warmth inside him. Every time he used this laptop – whenever he wanted to do what he pleased – he would think of John and be thankful.

 

The gratitude brought another host of unwanted emotions with it, primarily guilt. Passing the couch with strewn-about blankets from when John had slept just intensified his discomfort and Bane strode into the kitchen. “I need to repay you.”

 

John looked up in surprise from where he was standing at the stove, a carton of eggs on the counter beside him. “You don’t need to repay me. I didn’t pay anything for the laptop and I wouldn’t have made any money off it anyway.”

 

“But for everything else,” Bane pressed. “I’m not exactly happy being traded around like a broken toy but I have to admit that if it wasn’t for you stopping him and taking me to the hospital I would probably be dying now.” Bane swallowed thickly, wondering why he couldn’t stop himself from speaking even though he knew he was revealing too much. “And even though I’ve thought of the release of death, I know that’s not what I want.”

 

“Bane,” John sighed and set down the spatula in his hand on the counter, facing him fully. “What I did doesn’t need to be repaid or thanked. It’s what any decent human being would have done.”

 

“Well in case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t many decent human beings around these days,” Bane said. Beneath the mask Bane weathered his bottom lip in conflict. “Listen... I’m not happy with this arrangement. I thought this program would give me a second chance to have a somewhat normal life but it’s been seven years of hell. But...” John was still staring at him, eyes patient. “I would like to accept your peace offer.”

 

John’s smile was timid but happy. “I understand why you’re unhappy. I’ve dealt with my fair share of letdowns and I can’t even imagine what your situation must be like to live through. But I’m glad you’re willing to give me a chance to try to turn things around.” Bane didn’t say anything more, already annoyed with himself for admitting so much, and John cleared his throat, looking a bit awkward. “Shall we celebrate with some brunch?”

 

Bane nodded, feeling a bit awkward himself when he remembered that he was crowding his new supervisor in the kitchen, shirtless and clutching his new laptop to his chest. “Yes. I’ll put this down and then help.”

 

“I told you that you’re not helping until your back is healed,” John smirked, wielding the spatula again and opening the carton of eggs. “Just move the blankets off the couch and then find something interesting on TV for us to watch while we eat. I’ll handle the food.”

 

Bane figured that John was suggesting the TV since dinner the night before had been awkward, neither of them really willing to share any personal details when they had only just met. Conversation was strained and it would be more comfortable with the TV talking for them while they ate. Agreeing with John’s decision, Bane set the laptop on the coffee table and then slowly picked up the blankets and set them on the armchair beside the couch.

 

His movements were stiff as he took extra caution with his back. Bane could still feel his torn skin and the stitches pull occasionally if he reached too far or twisted his body to grab something, and he told himself silently to be patient. Lashes this deep would take time to heal, and even longer before they stopped hurting and hindering him. By the time he got settled on the couch with the TV turned to the news John was walking in with two plates of eggs, setting them on the coffee table before disappearing again to return with two glasses of water.

 

“I half expect to see a collar around your neck,” Bane muttered as he settled the plate on his thighs.

 

He sat still as John scanned his fingerprint and pressed the button for his mask, removing it for him and setting it on the table. “Your supervisors made you do stuff like this?”

 

Bane rubbed at his cheeks and jaw, accustomed to the daily ache of his face after sleeping with the mask on but never fond of it. “People take full advantage of free labour. I did just about everything my supervisors didn’t want to do.”

 

John’s fork tapped against his plate as he fidgeted. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Bane glanced over at him and read the sincerity in John’s face but turned back to the TV. “No.”

 

“Okay.” John could’ve ordered Bane to tell John everything – or at least force him to spill some of his secrets – but he didn’t and Bane was grateful. They sat together on opposite ends of the couch as they ate their eggs and watched TV. Only a few minutes of the news had played before John grabbed the controller and looked to him. “Do you mind if I change the channel? I hear enough bullshit like this at work.”

 

“As a cop shouldn’t you care about the news?” Bane wondered.

 

“I know the world isn’t a perfect place. I live it every day,” John said as he flipped through channels mindlessly. “But over half the news is just fear mongering. They exaggerate what suits them and ignore equally important facts that don’t support their interests.” The TV eventually settled on Saturday morning cartoons and John picked up his fork again. “I get shot at for a living. I know when they’re lying about Gotham news and it’s too often for me to bother with it.”

 

“There’s more news than just that though,” Bane said, only half watching the cartoons.

 

“Yeah, the rest is about correctees running rampant and anyone they can blame,” John shook his head. “The powerful members of society love you because you’re free labour. The rest are scared of you and want it that way because it’s easier to justify treating you like slaves. It just...” John took a deep breath and released it slowly, visibly restraining his anger. “It just pisses me off.”

 

Bane tried to think of something to say, drumming his fingers against the edge of his plate. “ _Bugs Bunny_ it is, then?”

 

All of John’s pent up energy was released in a sharp bark of laughter. “Yeah.”

 

Bane was uncomfortable and anxious as they fell back into silence, John simmering beside him. While Nate had been the worst, he had not been Bane’s only supervisor that punished him just for the enjoyment of it, or as a release when they were angry about something else. John just continued to sit silently though, tense as he ate his eggs but not even paying Bane any attention. Bane would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved.

 

When their plates were clear John took them into the kitchen to wash and Bane remained on the couch, partially watching the cartoons but directing most of his attention to the sound of water running as John washed the plates and glasses in the sink. He wasn’t sure if John remembered that he had to change Bane’s bandages but Bane was reluctant to prod him when his supervisor was frustrated.

 

Bane was saved from having to ask when John returned to the living room. “You can pick out a movie you want to watch if you’re interested. I figure you won’t want to move much after I do the bandages but you’re probably pretty bored of lying in bed.”

 

Bane couldn’t argue with that, fully rested after sleeping for so long the day and night before. John continued down the hallway and Bane dragged himself off the couch to look through the DVD collection on one of the shelves of the bookcase by the TV. There were quite a few movies Bane had never seen, released during the twelve years he was imprisoned and participating in the CCP.

 

He grabbed an action movie with an actor he recognized and slotted it into the DVD player as John returned, setting the bag of supplies from the doctor on the coffee table and moving the table to the side. Then John placed a small trashcan beside the table and grabbed a chair from the kitchen table to place beside the couch. The trailers started to play as Bane carefully sat down on the couch, his hands palm up on his thighs. John pulled off his sweater, leaving him in a t-shirt with short sleeves that wouldn’t get in the way before he pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

 

“I can’t promise this won’t hurt,” John warned him as he sat down, organizing things in a line on the coffee table. Ointment, disinfectant swabs, bandages, and two pill bottles Bane had never seen before.

 

“What are those?”

 

John looked over at the table to see where Bane was pointing. “I filled the prescriptions Doctor Gale gave us while you were sleeping. One is an antibiotic that you need to take twice a day and the other is for pain that you can take whenever you need it.”

 

After that John moved the chair a bit closer so that he was sitting directly in front of Bane, the coffee table on his left. John carefully grabbed a corner of the bandages protecting Bane’s left wrist and peeled it off slowly, doing the same thing with Bane’s right wrist. Bane winced but remained silent, knowing it would hurt less if he let John work as quickly as possible. It felt better when John smoothed new ointment over his torn wrists and re-bandaged his skin, and Bane was comforted to know that John seemed to be quite meticulous and careful.

 

When his wrists were done Bane slowly lay down on the couch with his back exposed, preparing himself for more pain but reassuring himself with the promise of pain killers when John was done. Bane clenched his teeth together when a few of the bandages caught on his stitches and ripped skin but John was gentle and thoughtful, taking as much care as he possibly could until Bane’s lashes met fresh air.

 

In the same way as at the hospital Bane felt a moan catch in the back of his throat when John began coating his cuts in ointment, the cool gel soothing the irritated skin. Catching on to the fact that the ointment was helping, John took extra time covering Bane’s back, massaging the ointment into any parts of the lashes that were not too deep or sore. Bane closed his eyes and breathed slowly, focused on John’s warm fingers through the latex massaging his abused skin. Anytime John got too close to a painful part of the lash Bane would grunt and John would skirt over the area without needing another reminder.

 

The bandages hurt a bit more since John had to press down slightly on even the deepest parts of Bane’s lashes to smooth out the bandages and get them to stick. But John still took his time, in no rush as the music from the DVD menu played on repeat in the living room. Finally the bandages were done and Bane heard the latex gloves being peeled off.

 

“Took some time but it looks good,” John said, standing up and carrying the chair back to the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and Bane lifted himself up on his elbows, using the water to swallow the antibiotic and pain pills before John set the water back on the coffee table and cleaned up. “Do you need anything else? I’m going to work on cleaning out that room.”

 

“I’m fine,” Bane said as he grabbed the remote from the coffee table and pressed play before setting the remote on the floor where he would be able to reach easier. John nodded and moved to clean up all of the supplies. Bane had every intention of letting him walk away, to maintain some semblance of independence despite needing his supervisor’s help, but then a cold draft of air hit his back. Normally Bane wouldn’t have minded the cold air but when it made him shiver his skin tensed and pulled, bringing tears to his eyes. “Maybe a blanket,” he requested quietly.

 

Bane caught the amused smile on John’s face before John schooled his expression into one of neutral indifference. Bane remained sprawled along the length of the couch as John grabbed one of the blankets Bane had put away and unfurled it, letting the fabric drift down on top of him and mould to his body to cover Bane’s legs and torso. “Just yell if you need anything,” John said once the blanket had settled.

 

Bane grunted in response, already lulled again by the stronger smell of cinnamon and warmth that enveloped him from the blanket John had curled up in the night before. He allowed John to walk away without saying anything more and turned his attention to the TV, thoughts hazy as the pain medication dulled the throbbing across his back. Bane hadn’t experienced inactivity since he was arrested and normally hated being lazy and immobile, but he knew that this was something he could get used to.


	5. Chapter 5

The week passed quickly; far quicker than Bane was accustomed to. Normally each day was gruelling for Bane, working from dawn to dusk and usually late into the evening as well. For most of his prison sentence he had been unable to pass his time with sleep, given only a few hours a night to rest before he had to start working again.

 

Here in John’s apartment Bane was left mostly to his own devices, allowed to watch movies or doze whenever it pleased him. Eventually Bane knew he would become tired with the boring inactivity but he used the week to catch up on years of sleep loss, unconscious for the most painful days of his back’s recovery.

 

When Bane wasn’t napping he was either watching movies or reading the books he plucked off John’s stuffed bookshelves. As promised John had given him the password to the internet once they got Bane’s laptop running, but it hadn't taken long for Bane to grow bored of it. After years without the internet he had grown disenchanted with it. The first three pages of his inbox had been filled with messages from friends and distant family, wondering where he had disappeared to. After that the messages all turned to spam.

 

Everyone had forgotten about him. Moved on.

 

The truth that Bane was no longer a part of anyone’s life was disheartening enough and Bane found himself uninterested in spending his time on the computer. Occasionally he would use the laptop to look up some information or games to pass time but he felt no draw to the internet like he had felt in college. The ability to access information and entertainment whenever he pleased was still important to him, his gratitude to John unfortunately not abated, but it was easier to control when Bane’s life didn’t immediately begin to revolve around the computer gifted to him.

 

John spent most of the weekend in the spare room, passing through the living room occasionally to set boxes by the front door. Sometimes Bane would look away from the TV to watch his new supervisor, but he never said anything or offered to help. He studied the way John’s body moved, athletic but lean, likely faster rather than stronger. Bane also watched the way John’s eyebrows furrowed together when he was carrying something heavy, and logged away the occasional flash of teeth John sent Bane with a brief smile before heading back to work.

 

John was a curious being; one that managed to capture Bane’s attention whenever they ended up in the same room. Bane still found it impossible to understand how John could be so willing to take such risks and challenges without any hesitation for a stranger and criminal. It was one thing to step in and stop a moment of torture, to save Bane from Nate’s whippings and then take Bane to the hospital to be treated. There had been fury in John’s eyes when he stopped Nate, that disgust pushing John to act even when the other police officers would not. Then in the aftermath John would still be on autopilot; taking Bane to the hospital would be the next logical step.

 

But now Bane had been in John’s care for days. The initial demand in John’s mind to do something would have faded and given him time to really think about what he was doing. Welcoming a dangerous criminal into his home and offering just about every luxury he had at his disposal. John spent his weekend off cleaning out a room for Bane and tending to Bane’s wounds. He used his hard-earned money for groceries to feed them both and to buy a bed, desk and dresser for the room; the fact that the dresser, desk and bed frame were from a used furniture store was irrelevant.

 

On Monday John went back to work and Bane was trusted in the apartment alone. Bane hadn’t been given a key to the apartment to allow him to leave and return, but the only thing left to keep him captive was the pain of his back and the inability of the rest of his body to survive an escape. So he remained on the couch, turning the volume of the TV up a little higher to hide the oppressive silence in the rest of the empty apartment until John returned home.

 

Tuesday evening was when the mattress arrived that John had ordered. By then Bane was walking around the apartment more, trying to keep his body limber and loose to combat the tightening of his skin where it was healing. However, he knew that he could not offer help to John even if he wanted to without risking tearing his stitches. John seemed to agree without words and didn’t bother asking for help as he grunted and dragged the mattress into the spare room.

 

Tuesday was also the night Bane finally got to shower, both of them agreeing that he was not getting into a brand new bed when he was so filthy. After dinner John removed the bandages from Bane’s back, neck, shoulder and wrists and got the shower turned on to a good temperature. He lingered in the doorframe, asking if he needed any further help but Bane sent him away, unwilling to accept the level of helplessness that would require John to remove his pants for him.

 

The shower’s spray stung at first, and then felt refreshing as Bane’s skin adjusted to the heat. Bane still didn’t have any hair to shampoo since he still wore his mask haphazardly whenever John remembered to put it back on him. John looked guilty each time he took the mask to Bane but Bane didn’t comment, unwilling to start a fight when he was in so much pain. Sometimes Bane would go the whole day without his mask if John forgot to put it on before he left for work. The sense of relief at having hours without the mask made Bane less disgruntled when he was forced to wear the mask again every evening before they went to sleep.

 

Still, even though Bane didn’t have any hair it still took him a long time to clean off in the shower. It hurt to bend over and curl his back so Bane had to alternate between reaching for some limbs and lifting others, precariously settling his feet one at a time on the rim of the tub so his hands could reach. There was no way Bane could reach to clean his back so he merely stood with his back to the spray, letting the cooling water wash over his stitches until the water was too cold to bear.

 

Drying off was a similar struggle as Bane tried to dry off his body without rubbing the towel too hard against his back, and get his clean pair of pants on without bending over too much or stumbling. Bane grimaced when he finished, seeing that the towel was stained with blotches of light bleeding. After he brushed his teeth he soaked the towel in the sink and scrubbed at the stains until the towel was salvageable, which was when he wrung it out as much as possible and hung it over the edge of the hamper.

 

Bane was glad he had decided to shower right before bed, his body exhausted and sore after the shower even though the hot water had initially soothed his muscles. Bane walked down the hallway and stood between the two bedroom doors. John looked up from the computer and stood, following as Bane walked into the spare room – his new bedroom – for the first time since it had been organized.

 

When Bane walked in the desk was on Bane’s immediate left. It was pushed against the wall in front of one of the two large windows. The bed was beneath the other window in the far left corner, with the dresser against the opposite wall on Bane’s right. Bane could see that his duffel bag of clothes had been set on top of the dresser, his laptop and current book moved to the desk, and the bed made up with new sheets and pillows.

 

“The room is a bit plain,” John said from behind Bane, voice quiet. “Maybe we could get you some posters or pictures or something.”

 

“John, it’s fine,” Bane told him sincerely. “I’ve never had a room this nice in all my life.”

 

John shuffled past Bane in the doorframe to stand in the room, the bag of medical supplies rustling in his grasp. “I’m glad,” John said and then winced. “I mean, not glad that you had bad bedrooms—”

 

“John.”

 

John fell silent, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Right, talking too much. Shall we get you bandaged up so you can sleep?”

 

Bane didn’t see a reason to argue and moved to the bed. He pulled back the covers and sat down slowly, testing to make sure the mattress and bed frame would hold his weight. While he was sitting John set down the bag and pulled out Bane’s mask, sliding it back on Bane’s head with routine movements. Once Bane was certain the bed was stable he lay down on his stomach, his feet and calves beneath the blankets with the rest of his body exposed. His pants weren’t enough to fight off the chill seeping into his bare back but Bane told himself to be patient, knowing John could do this quickly.

 

They were silent as John applied the ointment and bandages, Bane lifting himself up on his elbows without a word when John needed to tend to his wrists. They rarely spoke at all, and never while John was working on his back. These moments with John’s fingers massaging ointment into Bane’s skin always felt too gentle; adding murmured words would just make it worse.

 

Not that they talked much any other time they were in the apartment together either. Conversation was still strained, neither of them willing to talk about anything too personal. Bane was still actively making sure that he didn’t grow attached to the kind and quirky cop, keeping himself walled off from finding any sort of connection between them. Perhaps John was doing the same in an attempt to maintain some sort of professional relationship, or maybe he was just uncomfortable having a stranger and criminal in his house.

 

Either way, even when they were in the same room eating, watching a movie or TV, or reading books at the same time, they rarely made an effort to talk. The words shared between them were always ones of necessity rather than enjoyment. Bane decided that he liked this best and pointedly ignored the fact that the silences between them were still comfortable, while the silence of the apartment when John was at work was discomforting at best.

 

“All done,” John finished smoothing out the last bandage and then worked on cleaning up. Bane had already taken his pills with dinner so he remained lying on the bed as John tugged the blankets up around his shoulders and then excused himself from the room. Despite his exhaustion it took Bane a long time to fall asleep, left unsettled by the sudden and distinct disappearance of the smell of cinnamon and _warmth_ to blend with the clean sheets Bane had his face pressed against.

 

#

 

By the time they had to return to the hospital Bane had been living with John for over a week. Bane had adjusted to his new room and began to settle into a routine of living with John. He tried to fight it as much as possible but it was difficult to distance yourself from someone you were momentarily dependent on, though Bane’s independence started to re-emerge as his back began to heal.

 

Doctor Gale was happy with how his skin was healing when they saw her again at the hospital. By the time they reached the hospital appointment Bane had finished his antibiotics prescription and had suffered no ill effects or infection in any of his stitches. On this visit he was given a freezing needle around his three deepest lashes before Doctor Gale carefully removed all of the stitches from his back, certain that the skin had healed enough that the wounds would not reopen.

 

He was patched up again and sent home, John told that they only needed to come back to the hospital if there was any sign of infection or if any of the lashes re-opened. John would continue changing the ointment and bandages once a day for another week on the deepest lashes and Bane’s wrists to keep them clean, though the shallower cuts could be exposed to fresh air now as soon as Bane felt comfortable with it.

 

The appointment didn’t leave Bane in a great mood even though the news was good. He had gone to the hospital sitting in the front seat but lay down across the back seats on the return trip to the apartment, his back aching again as the freezing wore off and he felt each inch of skin where a stitch had been removed throb with the beat of his heart. Worse was the fact that it was the first day in over a week that Bane was forced to wear his mask for the entire day.

 

It surprised him that night when he was lying in bed trying to figure out why he was in a particularly bad mood. Over the years he had grown accustomed to his mask; it had practically become a part of who he was. All of his previous supervisors had only removed the mask for food, water and general hygiene. Now after just a week of inconsistent hours passing with his face free of the mask he was becoming dangerously addicted to the feel of his bare jaw, chin, nose and cheeks. Occasionally he still caught himself lingering at the bathroom mirror, exploring his face with his fingers.

 

It was a sad thing when your face was a stranger even to you but Bane tried to ignore those thoughts. This was easier to accomplish when the majority of Bane’s attention refocused on his back. The first week and a half of healing had left him achy and sore. But as he edged into his second and third week of being John’s correctee Bane felt an incessant itch he couldn’t satiate. He knew it was just his skin healing and scabbing over but it felt like bugs were beneath his skin, pinching him and leaving him fidgety even though he couldn’t – and shouldn’t – scratch his back.

 

His wrists were harder to ignore, itching just as badly but within reach. More than once Bane only noticed he was scratching at the bandages when he felt a twinge of warning pain streak up his arm. Bane found it almost humorous that his body was punishing him while John hadn’t once used any of the three penalties of his mask and collar – silence, shock, suffocation – since inviting Bane into his home.

 

Luckily it was easier to distract himself as Bane’s body began to recover further and strengthen. Bane made sure that he didn’t let himself slip back into the slave and maid mentalities but it was impossible to fully avoid having any sort of routine developing as he spent more time in the apartment. Bane cleaned the apartment when he could manage the movements and energy required but insisted that it was for himself and not for John; Bane couldn’t stand living in a disorganized place and while John struck him as someone naturally organized, John’s long work shifts left him without the time to properly clean.

 

Bane also took to watering the plants lined up on the windowsills, only because it was depressing seeing them wilt so sadly. Whenever John had a late shift and didn’t make it home for dinner Bane would make something small for himself, purposefully never cooking extra to leave for John. He wanted to make sure John knew that Bane had no intention of willingly subsiding into the slave role again.

 

John seemed unbothered by this, merely making something for himself when he arrived home from work. Sometimes he would sit on the couch beside Bane while he ate, both of them silent, while other times he would take the food to his room and work on the computer, leaving Bane alone. At first it still left Bane tense, expecting some form of punishment, and then he slowly relaxed over time when no penalizations came.

 

The hardest part was that John never did anything that backed up Bane’s internal mantra insisting that John would turn out like all of his other supervisors with time. Give them an inch and they’d run a mile with his freedom. But John didn’t take advantage like everyone else. He respected Bane’s right to do what he chose as long as it didn’t endanger anyone. Sometimes John annoyed Bane with his over-talking and fretting as well as his occasional sloppiness but it was very difficult to hate him for the quirks, and even more challenging for Bane to talk himself into simply killing John for his freedom.

 

At each passing day Bane noticed his brain becoming increasingly occupied with brainstorming potential methods of escape that wouldn’t end in John’s death. He wanted to rush himself through the act and just get it over with before he could think too much about it, but he knew that was a death sentence. The collar around his neck and John’s armband it was connected to was specifically designed to thwart any form of escape.

 

If he rushed then he’d probably get them both killed. But waiting, even just to give his back time to heal, became just as dangerous. As Bane’s body slowly recovered John put in more of an effort to ‘help’ Bane settle in. After three full weeks of rest and diligent care from John for his back, Bane was healed enough to put on shirts without wincing at the strain on new skin, and to join John on outings into Gotham.

 

The first thing on John’s list for Bane was to pick up some new clothes even though the repeated movement of trying on and taking off shirts had a few of the bandages stained pink that night when John changed them. Truthfully, despite the pain Bane didn’t mind too much. Most of what Nate had been willing to send along with him hadn’t even been Bane’s clothes; he had likely grabbed the first clothes he could find and stuffed them in the duffel bag to make it look like he wasn’t the shittiest supervisor in existence.

 

Bane couldn’t entirely hate the shopping trip when it meant he went back to the apartment that night with pants that didn’t stop above his ankles and shirts that didn’t hang around his thighs or were so tight that they ripped when Bane struggled in and out of them. Conscious of the money John was spending Bane didn’t request too much, but he did get enough to last him comfortably to each laundry day. Briefs and socks, some sweatpants and jeans as well as two pairs of pyjama pants, and a few shirts. Bane decided to get a few shirts that were looser and more comfortable on top of a couple shirts that fit his chest more snugly, showing off the muscles he had developed during years of hard manual labour.

 

John also insisted on getting him one sweater and light jacket, though he uncomfortably told Bane that he couldn’t afford to get him a coat right then. Bane sent him a quieting look and reminded him that it was late spring. He probably wouldn’t even need the jacket except for a few cool mornings anyway.

 

Bane’s shoes were also in a sad state, the material worn and dirty. But as they passed one of the shoe stores in the mall Bane saw the way John wavered, his cheeks burning red as he weathered his lip in the way he always did when he was nervous or embarrassed. Without a word Bane pressed his hand against the middle of John’s back and steered him onward, ignoring the way even more passers-by stared at them than there had been before the touch.

 

John followed the lead even though his head hung low. “I’m sorry. As soon as I get my next paycheque...”

 

“You’ve already done enough,” Bane hushed him, fingers twitching against John’s sweater until they were far enough away from the shoe store that he felt safe dropping his hand. Just because Bane hated his life and the collar and everything else didn’t mean he wanted John to feel bad. John hadn’t put Bane in this situation; he was only trying to make things better for Bane – which was more than anyone else had ever attempted. “More than enough.”

 

John’s smile was weak but present and Bane took slight comfort in that.

 

John still had other gifts for Bane, even though he really shouldn’t. Bane tried to tell him off for spending too much money but John waved him off, defending the purchases with admittedly rational explanations. The first thing Bane was given was a cell phone. It was a crappy old thing but more than Bane had had in years. John explained that it was a prepaid phone and mainly for contact between them if John was at work or Bane went out to run an errand.

 

“If you want to call anyone else just let me know and you can use my phone. I have a better phone plan,” John told him. Bane assumed that by now John had come to the logical conclusion that there was no one Bane still desired to contact, but the offer was still thoughtful.

 

The next thing John handed Bane was a key ring. The first key Bane recognized as the one on John’s own key ring; it was the key to the apartment. John was giving him the ability to come and go as he pleased. The second key was a mystery and when he asked about it John didn’t immediately answer him. Instead he beckoned Bane out to the apartment hallway and into the elevator, taking it down to the second floor.

 

There Bane was taken through the men’s change room and through the next set of doors to be shown a gym available for all residents in the apartment building. There were exercise machines of every variety as well as two small saunas in separate rooms near the change rooms. “I know your back still has a lot of healing to do and you might never want to have more exercise for the rest of your life after your years of labour,” John said as he stood beside Bane, overlooking the gym. “But it’s here if you want.”

 

“And I can come whenever I want?” Bane asked.

 

John nodded. “It’s open 24-hours a day for people who might have weird work schedules or anything like that. Your second key unlocks the change room where you can use a locker and one of the showers if you want.”

 

Saying ‘thank you’ still felt like too much of an admittance as to how much this all meant to Bane, so he merely nodded his head in understanding. Internally Bane was blown away by all of the effort John had gone through in order to make Bane feel more welcome, though John didn’t make a big deal of it as they headed back to the elevator and the apartment.

 

A part of Bane hated John for making his new life in the apartment so temptingly comfortable, but it was difficult to fully hate the only person who actually seemed to care about him. By his fourth week in the apartment Bane noticed that he was subconsciously trying to sabotage things. Bane did just about anything he could think of to push the boundaries and antagonize John.

 

He wanted John to hurt him, to punish him, because then it would finally be easy to hate him and disregard the countless kind things John had done for him over the last month. If Bane could hate John then he could kill him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t taken a life before. Bane knew even now that killing John would be different than all those years ago, but he told himself that he would just have to turn off the part of him that cared for a little longer and then he could finally be free.

 

The problem was that John seemed wholly against using any of the penalties built into the collar and mask, even when Bane managed to rile him up to the point of fury. After a month of recovery the bandages were off and Bane was physically capable of going out and picking up groceries or other items with the list and money John sometimes left on the counter. Bane would purposefully not pick up some items, or would make a mess in the apartment or pester John with ignorant or irritating comments when John arrived home late from his shifts.

 

It came to a head almost four weeks to the day of when John had brought Bane back to the apartment after saving him from Nate. John staggered into the apartment a little after 9pm looking haggard. Bane had already eaten and had left nothing extra even though he knew John was working late, leaving him to fend for himself. And as soon as John sat on the couch beside Bane with a bowl of cereal Bane started insulting John, the police and the work he did.

 

He said whatever he could think of, continuing on each time he saw John’s eyes flash to him or his cheeks redden with anger. John kept trying to defend himself and argue back but Bane would just talk over him, telling him that no matter how many wonderful things he gave Bane it didn’t change the fact that he still bought Bane like an object. Insisting that the police were hypocrites who only protected the safety of certain people, still taking advantage of the correctees they had put in jail in the first place.

 

“All the cops probably just arrest easy targets so that they have more criminals to use as free labour!” Bane finally accused.

 

That was when he knew he had hit the final mark because John’s face crumpled for a split second before his eyes and jaw hardened. “You’re a fucking asshole,” John spat as he stood, sending the untouched bowl of cereal spilling to the floor. “Just leave me the fuck alone.”

 

Before Bane could say anything else John stormed away and Bane heard a door slam down the hall. Bane sat on the couch, waiting tense and silent. He imagined John standing in his bedroom with his back against the door, grinding his teeth together until he remembered the armband on his wrist. Looking down at it and pressing his finger to the scanner, watching the screen light up and offer him three satisfying forms of punishment. A moment of hesitance and then a flash of anger as John remembered everything Bane had said. And then...

 

Nothing.

 

Bane lifted a hand and touched his collar, felt the material warmed from his skin. It wasn’t choking him or shocking him, and while the mask was on the coffee table where John had set it that morning before leaving for work, Bane didn’t hear the mouth cover click closed. Bane had pushed John as far as he was willing to go without inflicting physical harm and John still wasn’t punishing him.

 

That was when Bane realized John really didn’t deserve to have his life cut short for Bane’s own gain. Bane made the decision to come up with another plan to find freedom. But first he stood up slowly from the couch and picked up the overturned bowl, carrying it to the kitchen sink. He returned to the couch and mopped up the spilled milk and cereal, feeling like complete and utter shit, knowing that John would probably go to bed without food now even after a gruelling day of patrolling.

 

When the carpet was cleaned Bane sat on the couch and stared blankly at the TV, not really paying attention to the flickering images and instead lost in his own mind. For a while he was simply dumbfounded and a little awed at John’s restraint, and increasingly furious with himself for his stupidity. The first few weeks of living in this apartment with John had almost been... well, _pleasant_. Now he had ruined everything.

 

It was likely that John would realize his mistake now, and would pass Bane off to some new supervisor as soon as he could find someone who would take him – damaged as he still was with the deepest lashes on his back still healing. Perhaps Bane would be given to the police department but Bane doubted John would want to see him at work. Maybe John would send him back to Nate as true punishment. Bane’s back ached at the thought.

 

Bane knew that he had to figure out how to escape as soon as possible, before John could get rid of him. Because Bane had to admit that the likelihood of finding another supervisor as kind and thoughtful as John was slim to none. Bane turned off the TV and walked to his room to sit at his desk and turn on his laptop.

 

Of course there was no ‘ _how to_ ’ guide waiting for him, but Bane was still disappointed to see that even the mechanical and technical specifications of the collar were kept from the internet. The government really had thought everything through. The only information Bane could find was the CCP general website, which included general information about the program, an application form for potential supervisors, and an example of the CCP contract.

 

It was as Bane skimmed through the contract for his umpteenth read-through that Bane noticed something. Under the section discussing the supervisor armband it said that the supervisor’s fingerprint constantly pressed to the scanner would override the system and stop the collar from choking the correctee even if the armband was removed...

 

Bane sat back in his desk chair, mulling over the possibility. If he cut off one of John’s fingers and kept it constantly against the armband scanner – perhaps with tape – Bane would be able to remove the armband from John and take it with him. He would still need to find a way to sneak out of the city since he wouldn’t have written permission from his supervisor for the authorities at the city limits. But Bane would be free to disappear into the shadows and take his time finding a way out of Gotham.

 

The thought of cutting off John’s finger still left Bane a little queasy, already dreading the thought of repaying John’s kindness with such brutality, but it _was_ infinitely better than killing him. John would fight him, of course, but Bane knew that even with his aching back and wrists he could hold the man down; he had the size and weight to dominate John. Bane could hope that John might give in, realize that losing his pinkie finger was a lot better than dying. But if worse came to worst Bane would do what he had to in order to gain his freedom.

 

Grudgingly decided, Bane bided his time. He turned off his computer and the overhead light in the room. Bane kept the door slightly ajar as he slipped under the bed sheets, grimacing slightly as he felt the dryness of his scabbing skin stretch. It would be the first night of many nights where Bane would no longer have ointment massaged into his back and wrists, and it was something Bane would have to adjust to. He figured that with what he was planning, he deserved the discomfort.

 

Bane feigned sleep as he watched the sliver of light beneath John’s door. It took a long time but finally John’s light clicked off and Bane heard the muffled sound of John’s mattress creaking. Bane bit his lip at the thought of John going to bed without food but remained in bed, still biding his time. Come morning, a forgotten dinner would be the least of John’s worries. He was surprised to realize that even though John had forgotten to put Bane’s mask on, Bane did not feel free as he lay in bed without it.

 

The reason why pre-meditated crimes were judged more harshly in court was because it meant the person making the plans had sat with it for a length of time and the guilt hadn’t changed their mind. Waiting was necessary for Bane’s plan but he hated it. Curled up in the crisp sheets John had gotten for him, wearing the clothes John had purchased at Bane’s request...

 

Bane closed his eyes and tried to push the gnawing guilt away.

 

He waited longer to give John time to relax and finally drift off to sleep, knowing how long it often took to sleep when you were angry. After nearly an hour Bane still hadn’t heard any noise or seen any light from John’s room and Bane decided that it was now or never. He had to do this before the guilt grew too heavy to bear.

 

Slowly Bane lifted himself from the bed and stood, treading lightly to avoid causing any unnecessary noise as he walked out of his room and down the hallway. The living room and kitchen were dark, lit up only by the light pollution of Gotham spilling in through the windows. Bane walked up to the counter and considered the set of knives in the rack, the slivers of metal gleaming harshly with the pale city light.

 

Bane stood there for a long time. He stared at the knives, not really thinking much of anything. It was only when he curled his fingers around the handle of one of the smaller knives and pulled it free of the rack that his mind began to rebel again, churning his stomach until he feared puking in the sink. But this was what needed to be done. Bane would probably never get this opportunity with another supervisor. It was unfortunate that John turned out so good but Bane had to think about himself.

 

He caught his own eyes in the reflection of the sharp blade and found himself sickened, looking away quickly. Bane kept a tight grip on the handle of the knife but held it at his side. He was walking towards his freedom but Bane walked to John’s bedroom like a criminal to the electric chair. His feet dragged, his body tense, but Bane didn’t let himself pause before he slowly pushed open the door and stepped inside.

 

Bane could hear the even breathing of John in sleep, a calm in and out that struck Bane as far too trusting. In the shadows of the room Bane could make out the shape of John curled up under the blankets – taking up so much less room than Bane had when he had slept away the worst of his pain. John looked so small and innocent, like someone Bane should be protecting, which just made things infinitely worse.

 

He also noticed John’s police badge and gun set on the shelf that the headboard was pressed against, easily within reach. Knowing that he couldn’t allow John to fight back and get a hold on his gun, Bane stood at the edge of the bed where he could reach John easily. He hesitated for just a moment, taking in the smooth serenity of John’s face in sleep, and then he turned his conscience off.

 

Bane reached down and wrapped his left hand around John’s neck tightly, his right fist still solid around the knife handle. John jolted beneath him, eyes flashing open as his whole body tensed. Their eyes met in the darkness and John lay still for just a second before he threw the blankets away and reached up, trying to pry Bane’s hand off with both of his own.

  
Bane tightened his hold warningly, though not enough to cut off John’s breathing. John continued to pull at Bane’s hand for a moment, nails digging into Bane’s skin, and then all at once he stopped fighting. In a rush Bane loosened his hold on John’s neck slightly, worried he had strangled him. But John was still awake, wide eyes blinking up at him.

 

It would have been easier if Bane just choked John until he passed out. Then he wouldn’t have to see John struggle or worse – this disconcerting form of surrender as John lay still on the bed. “Are you going to kill me?” John forced the words out of his throat, voice rough.

 

“Why aren’t you fighting back?” Bane almost begged, desperate for John to force Bane’s hand so that Bane could later justify hurting or killing him. “You haven’t even reached for your gun.”

 

“Because I want you to be better than this,” John said, tears in his eyes. Bane clenched his jaw, feeling his heart ache. He didn’t deserve the belief John had in him, especially after how he was repaying John’s kindness. Bane _wanted_ to be a good person, but how could he? He had already followed this path of darkness. He couldn’t regret his actions twelve years ago; it hadn’t been a mistake.

 

“Are you scared?” Bane asked as he wavered, even though he didn’t need to ask. He could feel John’s pulse stuttering with fear. Bane was suddenly terrified at the thought of scaring John so badly he would cause a heart attack.

 

He could feel John swallowing thickly with his hand still tight around John’s neck. “Yes.”

 

Bane didn’t know what possessed him. It felt like he was a  mere observer and not the person loosening his hold on John’s neck, thumb stroking skin like it could coax away the bruises that wouldn’t take long to form. John remained tense on the bed, watching him sharply, but neither of them said anything.

 

All at once Bane realized that escaping from John wasn’t going to make him happy. Ever since he had been arrested Bane had been obsessed with the thought of freedom, of being able to do what he pleased and make his own choices. But John allowed him that freedom now, and offered a slow-budding friendship as well. Bane could still forsake what John offered him but even if Bane escaped with the armband and John’s finger he wouldn’t be rid of his collar. He would forever be a hunted man as soon as he returned to the streets.

 

The scariest part was that the thought of being on the streets and his own man wasn’t as appealing to Bane as it once was. When he had spent years with abusive supervisors then of course he wanted to escape. But now that he had the chance, he realized that he had nowhere to escape _to_. No friends or family waiting for him. Bane would be completely alone. _Free_ , but alone.

 

Bane refocused on John and it struck him. He was happy with the life he was beginning to form here with John. Instead of fighting so hard to escape Bane should be trying to impress John, to discourage him from trading Bane off to another new supervisor. He might’ve screwed everything up by now but Bane had to try to make amends, because this was a life he didn’t want to lose.  

 

John blinked and a few tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. That was when Bane reached forward and set the knife on the shelf beside John’s gun. “Don’t be scared,” he said, though he knew his voice sounded pleading. “I’m so sorry.”

 

His thumb continued to stroke the column of John’s neck in apology until John knocked it away. John was visibly trembling when he sat up hesitantly in bed, watching Bane carefully. His voice was painfully ragged from the abuse to his throat. “Can I go?”

 

Bane knew he deserved it but it felt like a slap, sending him stumbling back a step or two away from the bed. “You can go anywhere you want,” he said. “It’s your apartment.” Bane flinched when John looked over at his gun and the knife beside it, but John left both on the shelf and stood up from the bed, brushing past Bane. It wasn’t any of Bane’s business but he asked the question anyway, scared that John was going to call the police to take him away. “Where are you going?”

 

To his surprise, John answered him. “To run at the gym. I won’t be able to sleep again tonight.” Bane took a half-step closer and John whirled on him, pinning him in place with a furious glare. “ _Don’t_ follow me.”

 

Bane was left in stunned silence as John – still in the pants and shirt he slept in – walked out of the bedroom. When John was in the hallway Bane could hear his footsteps quickening. By the time John reached the alcove he must have been sprinting based on the noise, John barely taking the time to pause and grab his shoes and keys before slamming the door closed and disappearing.

 

For a few minutes Bane stood in shamed silence, furious and disappointed with himself. He didn’t know why he remained in John’s room, knowing John wouldn’t be happy to see him when he returned, but Bane found himself sitting on the edge of John’s bed for a long time. Bane glanced over to the knife on the shelf beside the gun and shook his head. He was such a fool.

 

Not wanting John to see the knife when he returned Bane picked it up and walked it back to the kitchen, slotting it into its proper place. Bane couldn’t believe he had done that to John, terrified, threatened and bruised him when John was the best thing that had happened to him in years. Bane scolded himself silently as he paced around the too-quiet apartment, asking himself why he didn’t wait longer and think things over before acting. Why couldn’t he have realized he wanted to stay here with John _before_ he fucked everything up?

 

It seemed clear that John had no intention of returning back to the apartment anytime soon, the clock ticking sadly on the wall, so Bane forced himself to bed. He curled up and breathed in the clean scent of the covers, memorizing the smell in case he was cast out the following morning. He told himself to sleep, hoping that he might wake up the next day and this would turn out to be nothing but a horrible nightmare. But sleep wouldn’t come.

 

He didn’t deserve the escape.

 

Bane sighed into his pillow and tried to keep his mind silent but it was impossible, little thoughts of self-hatred and frustration needling him each time he let his guard down. Bane resigned himself to a sleepless night as he watched the clock set up on his desk breeze through the minutes. It felt to Bane like the world had stopped turning, like he would be trapped in this apartment alone for eternity to mock his stupidity until Bane heard it – the slam of the front door.

 

He lifted his head from the pillow, tracking the sound of John’s stumbling steps from the front door into the bathroom next to Bane’s room. John must’ve run too hard for too long, adrenaline driving him beyond his breaking point because Bane could hear the hard thud of knees hitting tile and then the unmistakable sound of John vomiting into the toilet.

 

Bane winced at the sound and the pained groan echoing in the small bathroom. It was his fault that John had gone running for too long and also on an empty stomach. All of John’s suffering was because of Bane, and he hated it. Bane wasn’t a person to relish in the suffering of others, but he had never before felt this horrendously _sick_ with the guilt.

 

He continued to listen helplessly as John threw up again and then flushed the toilet. A minute later Bane heard the shower turning on, the cascade of water sounding like thunder through the wall. Bane remained in bed for another few minutes and then stood up again, knowing he would be unable to sleep while feeling this terrible. The least he could do is try to help John in some small way, in an attempt to even begin making it up to his supervisor.

 

Bane lingered by the bathroom door for just a moment and then moved into the kitchen, grabbing two slices of bread from the bag on the counter and setting them on a plate. He filled a glass with water from the tap and set it on the counter, putting the bread into the toaster only when he heard the shower being turned off. Bane felt embarrassed and foolish making toast for John but he couldn’t think of anything else to do, and he wanted to do _something_.

 

He doubted John wanted to see him though after what Bane had done to him. So Bane set the plate of toast and the glass of water in front of the bathroom door and then wavered, not knowing where he should go or what he should do. Should he try to talk to John or wait until tomorrow? Should he try to do more to show how much he regretted his actions or should he just stay out of John’s way?

 

Before he could make a decision the bathroom door clicked open. Bane looked up quickly to see John freeze in the doorframe, the colour draining from his formerly-flushed cheeks. John’s eyes flickered down to the toast and water on the floor and then back up to Bane, who swallowed as he saw the ring of bruises already beginning to shade John’s neck.

 

“Bane,” John croaked, taking a half-step back into the bathroom, likely considering slamming the door closed again and locking it.

 

Bane put his hands up in a sign of surrender. “I’m so sorry,” he said again, because even though he knew it wasn’t enough he didn’t know what else to say.

 

John’s eyes were hard but his jaw relaxed slightly, teeth no longer clenched together. John looked back down to the toast and with the backlight of the bathroom Bane could see the dark circles under John’s eyes. “Go to the couch,” John ordered him for the first time since becoming Bane’s supervisor. “I need to change out of these sweaty clothes.”

 

Every time one of his supervisors had given him a direct order in the past Bane would feel an indignant swell of rebellion fill him. This time there was nothing but a void, empty of everything but shame and regret. Bane nodded and walked down the hall without another word, sitting on the couch and staring at his mask left on the coffee table until John arrived in a new set of clothes.

 

Bane was slightly reassured to see that John had picked up the toast and water on his walk back to the living room, though it was discouraging to see how badly John’s hands were shaking when he set the plate and glass down on the coffee table by Bane’s mask. John sat on the couch with as much distance between them as he could manage, sitting tense and silent for long minutes. Bane was anxious but forced himself to sit still, waiting for John to speak first in order to gauge what John was thinking and feeling.

 

“You can leave, you know,” John eventually said, voice strangled after the abuse to his neck. Bane looked over in shock, watching his supervisor as John sat staring at his hands trembling in his lap. “I won’t stop you or call the police. I’d even keep scanning my fingerprint.”

 

“Don’t tell me that,” Bane clenched his eyes closed tightly, unable to bear any further self-hatred. He had attacked John, nearly cut off his finger or killed him, when John would’ve just let him go.

 

“Why not?” John still didn’t look at him. “I became your supervisor because I wanted to give you another chance at having an actual life, the way this program originally planned. But I’ve done all I can and apparently you’re still not happy—” John’s voice broke and Bane swallowed hard. “So just... _go_.”

 

“I...” Bane took a deep breath. “I don’t want to go.” John finally looked at him, and even though John still looked scared, upset and confused, just having their eyes meet calmed Bane slightly. “I’ve spent over a decade searching for some idealized freedom and I didn’t realize that what you were offering me was so much better. I know I don’t deserve it, but I want to ask you for one last chance.”

 

Their eyes held for a long time, so long that it should’ve been uncomfortable even though it wasn’t. Then John reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out his cell phone. Bane felt a jolt of fear and reached for it, but John flinched and Bane retracted his hand as though burned. Their eyes held again and then John scrolled through his contacts and brought the phone back to his ear. Against the edge of the couch Bane could only watch anxiously as his heartbeat rushed in his ears. Was John going to call the police on him?

 

John must’ve gotten someone’s voicemail, which was slightly encouraging since 911 would’ve picked up. With one final glance at Bane, John cleared his throat and spoke as evenly as possible. “Gordon, it’s Blake. Sorry to leave a message so late but I’m feeling really sick and I don’t think I’ll make it in for a few days. I’ll call you in the afternoon with an update.”

 

Bane’s sigh of relief was audible when John hung up and set the phone on the table. “Thank you,” he breathed. It still wasn’t enough but Bane didn’t think there would ever be words adequate to properly express his regret and gratitude.

 

“Trust isn’t easy to regain,” John warned him quietly, eyes locked on some distant point beyond the TV that only he could see. “If you really want to stay, then show me.” Bane studied the shadowed lines of John’s tired face. “Help me prove wrong all the assholes at my work who call me a fool for bringing you home.”

 

“Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” Bane said. He was shocked at his own submission but he knew that this life with John was worth bowing his head once in a while. Bane was the one who had ruined everything; he now had to do everything he could to bring their relationship back to neutral, before he could even hope of making things positive.

 

John shook his head and pulled his legs up onto the couch, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. “You may wear a collar but you’re a free man here, Bane. You should know this; I haven’t used my armband once, and I have no intention of using it now.” John looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “You can’t blame me for your actions. I want you to show me who you truly are.”

 

In that moment Bane wanted to hug John tightly, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to see John shrink away in fear from him again, and was unwilling to risk this fragile truce John was offering him. It was a scary thought, being reminded that he was in charge of his own actions and decisions, and that John would not shape him. But it was also exhilarating and freeing, because he wanted to impress John and show him that he was far more than his collar and mask.

 

“I will,” he said simply, though the words were heavy with promise.

 

John nodded and returned to staring blankly at the wall. The discomfort slowly crept up on Bane; he wanted to find an immediate solution even though he knew there wasn’t one. It would take time; a lot of it. All Bane could think to do was grab the plate of toast and hand it to John, who jumped initially at Bane’s movement and approach but accepted the plate anyway.

 

“I won’t be able to sleep tonight,” John said as he took a small bite of toast and chewed it slowly. “You can go to bed if you want but can you put a movie in for me? I don’t care which one.”

 

Without a word Bane pulled himself off the couch and skimmed through the selection of DVDs. A violent movie seemed like a terrible choice, as did a comedy where all the jokes would fall on sombre ears at this late hour. In the end Bane picked out an action movie he had watched the week before, knowing it was more car chases and less human violence. He got the DVD slipped in and grabbed the remote, turning the TV on and letting the trailers play. Bane knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep either so as long as John didn’t send him away Bane figured he would sit and watch the movie too.

 

He glanced over to John and watched the water in the glass rippling as John continued to shiver, likely from both fear and fatigue. On instinct Bane looked around and found one of the blankets left on the back of the couch even after Bane got his own room and John returned to his own bed. He picked the blanket up and unfurled it, stepping closer to John and freezing again when John pulled away from him with wide eyes. It hurt Bane to see John scared of him; it hurt more than it should have.

 

Luckily after a minute John forcefully calmed himself down, giving a tiny nod of acceptance for Bane to move closer and carefully wrap the warm blanket around his supervisor. John’s shivering slowed immediately and he offered a tiny weak smile before holding the plate out to Bane. Without a word Bane returned to the kitchen to make more toast and hand it back to John, joining him on the opposite end of the couch as John pressed ‘play’ and the movie started.

 

They sat there in absolute silence watching the movie together. John finished the second batch of toast and sipped his water and then settled more fully on the couch, snuggled up in the blanket that finally stopped his trembling. Bane stole glances at John occasionally, seeing the way John’s eyes remained glassy and far away. Even though they were in the same room on the same couch, Bane had never felt further away from John.

 

John looked half asleep when the movie ended but he only spoke one word, “Another.”

 

“You should try to sleep.” Bane didn’t try to keep the worry from his tone. John merely shook his head and remained curled up in the blanket until Bane got up and slipped a new DVD into the player. The clock on the player told Bane that it was after 3am as they started the next movie, and although Bane was exhausted he refused to sleep until John did.

 

They only made it twenty minutes into the second movie when Bane noticed John slowly slumping over against the armrest of the couch. Bane remained still for a few more minutes, not wanting to jolt John awake again. But after another ten minutes he finally stood up and John didn’t stir, sleeping deeply. Bane stopped the movie and turned off the TV and then tentatively lifted John into his arms, careful not to wake him as he moved John back into bed and wrapped the blankets up around his shoulders to sleep soundly.

 

When John was finally safe in bed Bane could curl up in his own bed and drift off, but his dreams were unkind and unsettling. Bane woke up in his hammock again, rocked violently by a buffering wind. He felt a sickening drop in his stomach when he realized that no one was in the hammock with him and he sat up quickly. Bane saw that the tide had risen, egged on by the harsh wind, and that the ocean and swept away the beach from beneath Bane’s feet.

 

Bane was stranded and alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Seeing the ring of bruises on John’s neck the following morning was a punch to the gut, one that made it hard to breathe as Bane fought down a flash of nausea. Worse was the way a few days passed in the apartment quietly, both of them living together but separate. John only came out of his bedroom to get food and to use the washroom; the rest of the time his door was sealed tightly shut.

 

Bane was left to roam the apartment, frustrated when he realized that he hated the sound of a quiet apartment with John here even more than when John was at work, because now Bane knew for certain that he was being ignored. He couldn’t blame John. The very fact that John was allowing Bane to stay here was gracious enough. But it still left his heart feeling tight and heavy as he wandered around searching for something to do.

 

He had given up his search for an idealized freedom and had instead chosen a life here with John, his supervisor and maybe someday friend. But he had made his decision too late and had scared John off. Now Bane had no one. He was alone – again – and he had no one to blame but himself.

 

Whenever he saw John he tried to reconcile things by insisting on making him meals or by searching for good conversation topics. The conversation always fell flat though, John’s voice still ragged and sore as the bruises darkened vibrantly in the daylight. It wasn’t long before Bane gave up and withdrew as well, unable to bear seeing how stressed and nervous John became every time they were in the same room.

 

The only time John approached Bane again was to slip Bane’s mask back on, an apology in his eyes but not on his lips each time the clasps bound the leather to Bane’s head again. It left Bane restless and after a few days he found himself taking the elevator down to the apartment gym to run and lift weights until he nearly collapsed. Then he would push himself harder, wearing himself out until he was too tired to think, to do anything but sleep away the days when he returned to the apartment.

 

John was forced to take the whole week off from work because of the bruising since there was no way he could get by in a room full of cops without someone noticing the abuse. At first Bane thought it was a good thing – John worked too much anyway and would benefit from a week of rest. But then on Friday afternoon Bane took the elevator down to the lobby to pick up the mail, many of the apartment residents and staff familiar with him now even if they would never be fully comfortable seeing him wandering around on his own.

 

Bane decided to take the stairs back up to the apartment as he flipped through the mail even though he knew there would be nothing for him. On the sixth floor landing in the stairwell Bane paused, finding three envelopes in a row all filled with pink paper and ‘URGENT’ stamped with red ink on the front.

 

He felt a distinct lurch in his stomach. John wasn’t rich, like Bane had naively assumed over a month ago when John had purchased him and brought him home. He didn’t have a bunch of money saved away and worked only for the enjoyment of it. John was just a normal cop earning a normal salary. After paying whatever fee Nate demanded, spending money on Bane’s medical supplies, buying him clothes and a phone and setting him up with a wonderful little bedroom, John must not have had enough money to pay off all his bills the previous month.

 

Cursing quietly to himself Bane left the stairwell and walked to the apartment, making a beeline for John’s closed bedroom door. John would probably be pissed that Bane had riffled through the mail but it seemed clear that John had no intention of mentioning his money issues, or asking Bane to pick up work to cover the extra expenses. It fell to Bane’s hands to find a solution because he knew he was the one who had to pick up the slack to help make ends meet.

 

For the first few weeks Bane hadn’t pressed the job issue since his back had still been healing. The skin on his back still wasn’t perfect, some of the deepest lashes remained protected by scabs. However, Bane’s neck, shoulder and wrists had healed completely and were back to normal – minus the scars – and Bane had managed fine all week without the bandages and ointment. Just because his back still ached and got stiff occasionally didn’t mean he was incapable of work. Bane figured that if he could work out at the gym, he was fit for a job.

 

Buzzing with determination, Bane stood outside John’s room and knocked quietly, restraining some of his energy to ensure he wouldn’t appear threatening to his skittish supervisor. Bane waited for a few seconds and was about to knock again when he heard a click and the door pulled inward. John was dressed in a loose pair of pants and a shirt that hung low on his collarbone, showing the bruises which were finally fading from a greenish purple to yellow.

 

“What’s on your mind, Bane?” John asked him, no doubt confused since Bane hadn’t intruded on John’s bedroom since the knife incident. Bane was relieved to see that John seemed less nervous around him now. Perhaps the week of Bane acting as a proper, respectful roommate had reassured John enough to believe Bane’s words saying he wanted to stay here. John hadn’t said anything about falling asleep on the couch and waking up in his bed and Bane was grateful for that, not entirely sure what he would say if John asked about it.

 

There were a million things he wanted to try to say to John. He wanted to apologize again, and insist repeatedly on the truth that he had seen the error of his ways. But it would all fall flat. John didn’t want to hear sugar-coated words; he needed to be _shown_ that Bane was serious. So Bane pressed the bundle of envelopes into John’s hands, the late bills obvious on top of the pile. “I saw the bills—”

 

“You went through my mail?” John cut him off, grabbing the pile of mail and folding the newspaper over the unpaid bills.

 

Bane winced as he saw John’s cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. “I just saw them—” he cut himself off this time, forcing himself to get right to the point. “I want to get a job and help pay you back for everything you’ve done.” John was halfway to closing the door in his face when he hesitated, meeting Bane’s gaze for the first time in what felt like ages. Encouraged, Bane continued. “My back is much better and I have plenty of energy. I’m a good worker and I’m _willing_ to work if it’s...” his voice suddenly trailed off as he realized how cheesy he was about to sound. But it felt important to say, so he cleared his throat and pressed on. “If it’s for you. To make this situation work.”

 

Their eyes were still locked and Bane studied those brown irises, watching as they slowly softened for the first time in a week. John glanced away and then back, sheepish for a moment. “You’ve already been forced to do so much in this program. I mean, I’m assuming but I’ve read more than enough reports at work about abused correctees...” John weathered his bottom lip and met Bane’s gaze again. “I can get this sorted on my own, you know.”

 

“I believe you.” Bane lifted a hand and watched as John’s eyes flashed to track his movements, flinching. But John didn’t withdraw, body tense but not angling away. Taking this as a good sign, Bane reached forward and touched John’s arm right above his elbow. It was an unnecessary touch but one he found hopeful when John allowed it. “But let me help.”

 

John breathed deeply and then Bane received his first smile in over a week. “Alright,” John agreed. “Think about what sort of work you’d be interested in doing and we’ll look into it.”

 

“What about working at the police station with you?” Bane proposed.

 

John’s smile wavered. “I already told you what you would be doing if you worked with the police. It’s dangerous.” John touched Bane’s forearm, somehow making it feel reassuring even though John was brushing Bane’s hand away. “There are a lot of other things you could do instead. Just think over your options. I can handle the bills until you make a decision.”

 

Bane’s hand fell limp at his side and John took a step away from him further into the room, beginning to close the door on him. Bane felt the urge to tell John that he wanted to work with him, and that if John was doing dangerous patrols then Bane should be there too, but he knew that sounded too foolish to voice. Seeing the door closing on him pushed him to think of _something_ to say though, not wanting their relationship to regress again, so he said the first thing he could think of. “Do you want to watch a movie tonight?”

 

The door paused and John peeked out at him. Bane could see John considering him, imagining all the wondering thoughts and uncertainties John was weighing before making his decision. He also saw John’s decision before his supervisor spoke, noticing John’s eyes spark with a curious light. “That sounds good,” John’s smile returned and Bane decided that he wanted to see those lips curling more often. “I’ll do dishes if you cook.”

 

“Agreed,” Bane said, and finally let John close his bedroom door with a quiet _click._

Bane hadn’t done any fancy cooking in years and knew he didn’t have the skills to truly impress John. But he did want to treat John somewhat, and show a genuine effort, so he headed to the kitchen to make note of what groceries they had available before settling down with his laptop to search for ideas. Bane chided himself on the odd eagerness welling up inside him, even though he recognized that this was his first real chance to mend the broken bridge between himself and John.

 

In the end he chose to make pasta and garlic bread and just focus his effort on making a homemade sauce, knowing their fridge was a bit low on supplies and not wanting to draw attention to the lack of money to restock it properly. Once Bane had made his decision he wrote down the recipe on the pad of paper John had let him pull out of the boxes from the storage room before John took them all over to the orphanage weeks ago.

 

It was still a bit early for dinner so Bane took the pad of paper to set it on the kitchen counter and pull out all the ingredients to ensure he had everything before settling on the living room couch with his current book. Bane was pleasantly surprised when a short while later John came out and sat down on the couch with him, not saying a word as he got comfortable and opened his own book.

 

Bane found himself wanting to stay on the couch and forget all about dinner but he could only delay for so long before he could hear both of their stomachs grumbling with need. When John started glancing over at him every little while Bane knew it was time for him to get up and start preparing dinner. However, whenever he had some time between steps in the process he would purposefully return to the couch to read a few more pages in comfortable silence with his supervisor.

 

Dinner wasn’t anything amazing but John seemed impressed so Bane was happy. He let John pick the movie for them to watch and partway through they even began exchanging comments about the movie’s plot and characters. It was more comfort than they had shared between them since Bane’s arrival for the most part, and certainly since Bane had attacked John.

 

Bane was happy to see John enjoying himself and at ease with Bane; the happier his supervisor was, the less likely it would be that John would send him away. Normally Bane would’ve felt disgusted with himself for acting this way, basically bending over backwards to please his owner. But it was easy to justify his actions to himself and negate any frustration when it came to John. After all, John didn’t treat him like a slave and had already done a lot for Bane, despite Bane’s mistakes in return. Bane owed him a lot and he wanted to see John happy. It helped that when John was happy Bane was less nervous about being passed on to another new supervisor.

 

They let the dishes sit until the movie was over and then John picked everything up and carried it into the kitchen. Bane trailed behind and hovered until John sent him away, insisting that he had every intention of making this an even exchange. Oddly pleased by this, Bane returned to the couch and continued his book while listening to the rush of water in the sink.

 

He was expecting John to excuse himself once dinner and the dishes were done since that was all they agreed to. But Bane couldn’t help but smile, just the tiniest bit, when John returned to the couch with him. John had taken Bane’s mask off for dinner and wasn’t making any move to put it back on right away, and Bane wasn’t going to remind him. Bane wasn’t quite sure what John had planned though, considering the fact that John was seated on the couch but not reaching for his book or the remote.

 

Bane read a few more sentences before getting distracted by John’s lingering stare. When he glanced over he saw that John was sitting fully on the couch, feet tucked in the groove between couch cushions and back against the far armrest. And he was definitely staring. Bane slipped his bookmark in place and closed his book, turning more fully to face John. “How may I be of service?”

 

John’s eyebrows knit together in displeasure. “You’re not a servant.”

 

“Alright,” Bane brushed his finger up and down the spine of the book, fidgeting. “Then why are you staring at me?”

 

John’s face cleared of any annoyance. Instead Bane saw curiosity there, and eagerness. “I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”

 

Bane’s initial reaction was to scoff and remind John that he had the armband; he could do whatever he wanted. Bane swallowed this down, remembering again that this wasn’t true. John wore the armband without interest, only remembering it and its power long enough to scan his fingerprint at the proper times to keep Bane alive. Bane could tell John no, or ignore John’s question without punishment.

 

It was Bane’s choice.

 

In general Bane liked his supervisors knowing as little about him as possible. He didn’t like having people know about his past – his time with previous supervisors, in prison, and before he was arrested. Having people see him as a hopeless criminal was one thing; it coloured their view of him but Bane could internally hold close the belief that he was more than they believed, that he wasn’t just some two-dimensional crook and slave they could abuse. They could only order him and beat him down; they couldn’t break his spirit.

 

It was when someone knew about his motivations, his hopes and fears that they could gain true power over him. They could attack him where they knew it would hurt most, chip away at Bane’s internal walls keeping the world at bay after it had betrayed him. Even under torture Bane had not told any of his supervisors about his past – except for Samuel when Bane had still believed that the program could work as intended.

 

It was a little jarring for Bane to realize that the thought of sharing some details about himself with John wasn’t quite as scary as Bane was used to.

 

Still, Bane wanted to err on the side of caution. “You can ask me anything but I don’t promise to answer everything.”

 

“Fair enough.” John continued to stare at him for another minute and although Bane felt a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny he didn’t tell John to stop. “I was wondering why you chose to be part of the Criminal Correction Program. I know all prisoners had a choice between the program and staying in prison.”

 

That was a simple answer. “Prison isn’t fun, John. It’s not a place you aspire to end up. Only those on top enjoy their stay, and even they have to fend off challengers. When someone handed me a chance to get out I took it and didn’t look back.”

 

“But you read the contract,” John said. “You’re clearly not a stupid man. You must’ve seen the potential for abuse when you signed it.”

 

“I did,” Bane nodded. “But you can’t blame me for hoping that it might turn out the way it was originally intended. In an ideal world the program would be amazing,” Bane sighed, rubbing his hand over the bare line of his jaw. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now but I will say that what got me arrested isn’t something I regret. But I did mourn for the life I sacrificed.” He looked over and saw that John still looked curious, but also patient and understanding. John clearly wanted to ask more questions but he wouldn’t push, which Bane appreciated. “The program was supposed to give me another chance to work, and to interact with people other than criminals.”

 

“Was it always bad?” John questioned. “Was the program just doomed from the start?”

 

“It’s never _always_ bad,” Bane said. “After all, I can’t say the program is bad when I was lucky enough to finally end up with a supervisor like you. _You_ are the sort of supervisor those idealists envisioned when they wrote up that contract.”

 

It was a little dark in the living room but Bane thought he could make out a faint tinge of red on John’s cheeks. “But I can’t be the only one,” he pressed. “I saw the list of other supervisors scratched out on your contract. Despite everything...” John unconsciously brought a hand up to touch his neck and Bane looked away. “I can’t see you as the problem correctee being passed along.”

 

“You’ve gotten different behaviour from me than others have because you treat me with respect,” Bane said. “And you’re right; you’re not the only good supervisor. But the good ones are few and far between. Fairytales for hurt and abused correctees.” He took a deep breath. “Samuel was good, at first,” Bane admitted. “My first supervisor. He was good until the power got to his head.” John was silent and this time it was Bane raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “Out of questions?”

 

John laughed quietly. “Oh I have plenty more questions. But I think that’s enough for one night.” Their eyes met and John’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you for telling me. I feel...” John played with the frayed threads of the blanket on the back of the couch, the one Bane had wrapped around his supervisor a week prior. “Closer to you.”

 

That was the problem with telling someone too many personal secrets and stories. But this time it didn’t feel like a problem. “Me too.”

 

They ended up watching another movie for the evening, which was nice instead of John locking himself away in his bedroom again. After the second movie Bane’s eyes felt dry and droopy and he knew he was ready for bed. He stood up and was ready to say his farewell for the evening when John stood too, looking a little guilty now. Bane hesitated, waiting for John to speak.

 

After a moment he did, though John didn’t quite meet Bane’s eye. “How’s your back doing? I know you told me that it’s okay but I didn’t take care of it all week.”

 

“It’s fine,” Bane reassured him immediately. “Still a bit dry and tender but it’s mostly healed now.”

 

John rubbed at his neck again and finally looked directly at Bane. “I was just wondering since there’s enough ointment left for one night.”

 

 It didn’t take Bane long to consider the offer. “I wouldn’t turn you down,” he said honestly.

 

They split up long enough to get ready for bed, Bane ensuring the front door was locked and the lights were turned off while John used the bathroom, and then Bane used the bathroom after. Bane changed into his pyjama pants and abandoned his shirt, and by the time he sat on the edge of his bed John was in his doorframe, ointment in one hand and Bane’s mask in the other. Although Bane was hoping their relationship would return to the point where John insisted on the mask less frequently, Bane wasn’t going to push his luck right now.

 

He let John slip the mask on and then lay on his stomach, arms pillowing his head. John’s fingers were warm and the ointment cool against Bane’s skin but it sent a pleasant tingle up and down Bane’s spine as he let his eyes drift closed. “Good?” John asked him, fingers light and hesitant at first and then growing more confident after a few minutes.

 

“Good,” Bane moaned quietly. John dug his fingers in a little deeper, massaging at undamaged skin as well as brushing Bane’s raised scars. At one point John found a knot of muscle in Bane’s lower back and Bane couldn’t help but arch up slightly into the touch, seeking more.

 

John took the hint at worked at Bane’s knotted muscles for a few more minutes but eventually pulled away. Bane kept himself silent, telling himself it would be inappropriate to ask for more when John had already done so much for him. But that didn’t stop his skin from tingling long after John had said goodnight and disappeared to his own bedroom, making it impossible for Bane to forget the sensation of John’s fingers working his skin.

 

#

 

John went back to work on Monday with the aid of some cover-up makeup to hide any lingering bruises on his neck. John seemed happy to be working again, likely thinking about the money he needed to make up to cover the overdue bills. Bane couldn’t say he was very happy that John had gone back to work though. He was glad that when John was home they were talking more, but John’s work schedule was erratic and he always came home looking harried and exhausted.

 

Whether Bane woke up to an empty apartment or spent the evening alone, John working the late-night patrol and not getting home until late, there was a big chunk of time every day that Bane was alone. Bane had a lot of entertainment options available to him – the TV and movies, his laptop, books and the gym downstairs – but he still found himself waiting for the times when John was home. He would even stay up late on the nights when John was working the late shift to ensure he made it home and talk to him for a few minutes before they both went to sleep.

 

Simple fact, Bane was lonely. Even though he had hated the majority of his supervisors and generally disliked the rest, in many placements Bane had been working alongside many other correctees at the same time. He had never made close friends in those situations, knowing there was no guarantee that everyone would still be working together from one day to the next, but they managed to pass the time playing cards or sharing stories of happier times.

 

John was the first real friend Bane had had in years. It was still a shaky relationship but they enjoyed each other’s company and found that there were many topics they found equally interesting to discuss. As time passed Bane knew they would become closer friends, and while Bane’s attack on John would never be forgotten, Bane hoped it could someday be forgiven.

 

Of course, just because Bane had found a tentative friendship with his new supervisor didn’t fully banish his loneliness. After all, John needed to work and they did need some time apart just to have alone time so they didn’t get sick of each other being in the same apartment all the time. Bane was a naturally solitary creature, but his budding friendship with John caused him to reminisce about old friendships long since lost.

 

Bane had only had two close friends throughout his school years but following those memories to their conclusion just made Bane’s heart ache and he quickly pushed the thoughts away. They were far beyond his reach now anyway; there was no sense torturing himself with memories of laughter alongside tears.

 

The desire to go outside built up inside Bane but he rarely ventured out on his own. He knew the sort of reactions he would receive from citizens, even with his mask on; _because_ the mask was on. The program promised to help correctees integrate back into society but instead it just alienated them, segregated correctees and told citizens it was okay to treat them differently because they had committed crimes in the past. It didn’t matter that the majority of criminals wanted to change, wanted a second chance. The collars branded them and there was no turning back.

 

Instead of going outside and risking the masses Bane spent an increasing amount of time in the gym just to feel his body moving. He pushed himself harder each day, increasing his strength and endurance slowly. Bane remembered his last year of college as a junior. He had played football in his free time but had generally preferred more time spent alone in the library. Bane’s body had been fit back then, but never extremely muscular even though his father’s build left him predisposed for such a physique.

 

It was only the years of manual labour that had buffed his body to imitate a similar silhouette to that of his father’s. Or at least, what Bane remembered his father to look like; his parents had refused to visit him in prison after the news got out of what Bane had done so he only had fuzzy memories for comparison now.

 

His month off from any sort of work or exercise while his back healed had caused his muscles to shrink somewhat, his body leaner and wired rather than bulging with muscle and power. But Bane was determined to rebuild his powerful physique, knowing it would come in handy when he eventually started working for the police. John was still sidestepping the issue but Bane couldn’t think of anything else he wanted to do for work – it wasn’t like he had many choices since the majority of businesses refused to be associated with correctees.

 

Bane just had to think of a way to convince John that it was better for both of them, using the many reasonable arguments for why Bane should work alongside John. It would save money on the commute and would bring in what Bane hoped was a relatively decent second salary. On top of that, Bane suspected that it would be easier for him to get hired by the police than by other businesses, since only a month ago the cops had purposefully hired some correctees from Nate.

 

It would be easier if Bane worked where his supervisor could oversee him. It would make management and fellow coworkers more at ease. The fact that Bane wanted to work alongside John was just a bonus. Perhaps his reasoning wasn’t completely honourable but he knew how to lie if he was forced through an interview before getting hired.

 

The general principle was that people should become cops to protect people and uphold the law. Bane wasn’t a big fan of the law, or of the average cop. Both had failed him in the past and Bane would never forgive them for the losses he faced due to their inadequacy. But just when Bane thought that it would be easy to hate all cops and the laws they stood for, John came along and made things difficult. Because John was a beaten-down idealist who never lost hope and never stopped caring.

 

It was... Well, inspiring sounded a little dramatic. But it certainly left Bane feeling warm and energized, driven to be similar. John was an honourable man and Bane wanted to be an honourable man too. However, even if Bane couldn’t be an honourable man, if everyone was right when they assumed that his past actions tainted his future, Bane wanted to protect John to make sure he could keep fighting his fight.

 

Bane was mulling over this thought as he watered the plants on the windowsill, having taken full responsibility for saving them from John’s unintentional negligence. It was a beautiful Friday afternoon, the sun still high in the sky and the air warm judging by the breeze drifting in from the windows Bane had open for fresh air.

 

He slowly became aware of a little jingle repeating from somewhere in the apartment and he looked around in confusion, searching for the source. It took him a moment to remember the cell phone John had gotten for him so that they could communicate while apart. John was the only one with his phone number and John never called from work. Concern needled at Bane as he set down the cup of water on the sill and walked quickly to his room, finding the phone on his desk and picking it up.

 

Bane tried not to sound too worried. “John?”

 

“Hi,” John began, voice a little nervous but not particularly upset. “Listen, this is a bit of an odd question but do you know how to drive?”

 

Bane grunted in confusion. “It’s been a while so I’d be rusty, but yes. I know how to drive. What’s going on?” he asked when John didn’t immediately speak again.

 

He heard the distant but distinct sound of fingers drumming on a desk through the speaker of the phone. “I know we’re still settling again after...” John cleared his throat quietly, pressing on before Bane could interrupt him. “And I know the police station is almost a forty minute walk from the apartment but I was wondering if you could come over.”

 

“Why? What’s wrong?” Bane questioned. The heavy weight in his stomach wasn’t going away. If John was going to bring Bane in for a job interview then Bane assumed John would go in with him, and would be more forthcoming with information. Something had to be wrong and Bane didn’t like the way his stomach was knotting up.

 

“I just got into a bit of a scrape on patrol; nothing serious!” John said in a rush.  “I just twisted my ankle and I don’t think I can walk or drive at the moment. Gordon gave me two weeks of paid sick leave, which is great for the money issue, but first I have to get home and no one has time to drive me home and then walk back to the station. I’m so sorry, Bane. I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

 

“Hush,” Bane quieted him, John falling silent immediately. “Just text me the address. I’ll look up a map on my computer and then walk over.”

 

“Are you sure?” John’s voice was small, as though concerned about being hushed again.   

 

“Think about everything you’ve done for me over the last month and a half.” John was silent and Bane found himself smiling slightly to himself. “Exactly. So text the address to me and stay put.”

 

“Thank you,” John said and then hung up.

 

Bane quickly changed into a more suitable set of clothing, a dark pair of jeans and a relatively warm sweater. After that Bane turned on his laptop while he waited for John’s text and then looked up a map with directions. He wrote the directions for himself on his pad of paper and tore off the sheet, stuffing it in one pocket and slipping his phone into his other jeans pocket. Bane only took the time to turn off his computer and grab his keys before putting on his shoes and heading for the elevator.

 

It was the first time Bane had really ventured out onto the streets on his own in a few years. Nate and his previous supervisor Minnie had ordered all correctees to remain on their property, likely worried about someone running off and never looking back. Before that Bane had been with Ben, who had been a bit more trusting – at least at first. For a few hours every Sunday Bane had been allowed to go for a walk, shop, see a movie or do whatever he pleased. For a few glorious months Ben had treated Bane like his paid workers, though it seemed that nothing good lasted forever.

 

Bane didn’t think too much about how people would react to his collar and mask, and certainly didn’t pay his fellow pedestrians any mind as he exited the apartment and started following his written-down instructions. He made an effort not to bump into anyone or purposefully antagonize the people he was forced to share the sidewalk with but he didn’t take the time to notice if people were even reacting to him at all, focusing on his goal and his pace speeding up as his worn shoes pounded the pavement.

 

He replayed the phone call in his head again and again while he walked, analyzing John’s tone and words. His supervisor had sounded a little unsure or unsteady but that seemed to just be from John’s discomfort in asking Bane to come to the police station to pick him up. John was a stubborn, independent man; Bane doubted that asking for help was one of John’s favourite activities. John had said that no major damage had happened but Bane figured John wasn’t being entirely truthful. If John couldn’t drive himself home then there was a problem.

 

It was only when he pushed through the police station door into the main lobby that Bane noticed how much momentum had been driving him. He was out of breath and his heart was racing. And while Bane was willing to admit he was worried about John, that couldn’t have been the sole reason for his heart pounding in his chest. Bane saw the large clock on the far wall and realized that he must’ve sprinted the majority of the trek; a near-forty minute walk had taken him a little over twenty minutes.

 

Bane knew he was lucky that he hadn’t been tackled and arrested on his blind run to the station. People always assumed the worst when they saw a running correctee, subduing them to stop any chance of escape and only thinking to ask questions later. Bane placed a hand on his chest, breathing in and out to rein in his heartbeat. There were a few cops milling around the lobby and they were all giving him calculative glances, but no one was approaching him with handcuffs yet so that was a good sign.

 

The building was large so Bane was forced to walk up to the front desk, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “I’m here to pick up John Blake.”

 

The woman at the front desk gave him a long considering look and then picked up the phone, punching in a few numbers and looking at anything but Bane while the phone rang. After a moment someone picked up and Bane heard a muffled voice through the speaker. “I have a correctee here asking for John Blake,” she told the person on the line, nodded once, twice and then hung up. She looked back to Bane. “Take the elevator behind me up to the third floor and then follow the signs to the west offices. You can’t miss it.”

 

“Thanks,” Bane said, knowing by now that there was no value to antagonizing people for no reason.

 

He only made it a few steps away from the desk and towards the elevator when another cop bumped into him. The burly man with a greying beard reached out and pressed a hand to Bane’s chest, forcefully stilling him from proceeding. Bane felt a coil of tension tighten within him as his body thrummed with frustration. The only reason he didn’t punch the man right in the nose was because he knew that would keep him from reaching John.

“Why doesn’t this correctee have handcuffs on?” the man glowered at the receptionist, who reddened with her own annoyance. Clearly she didn’t like being treated like she didn’t know how to do her job.

 

“He’s a visitor,” she sniffed.

 

“Then he should have a visitor’s badge.” Bane saw the man’s badge – Detective Rogers – a second before he grabbed Bane’s collar and tried to drag him back to the front desk.

 

Bane clenched his teeth together, his body resisting for an instant before he made his body loosen as he trailed behind to the desk. The adrenaline built up in his body from the run to the station was making it harder for him to remain calm. Bane knew Rogers would be able to feel the way Bane was stiff with anger but the man took no heed, dragging him along all the same.

 

“ _Commissioner_ Gordon said he didn’t need one,” the secretary shot back, mouth a tight line. “Perhaps you would like me to get him on the phone so you can discuss this with him further.”

 

Rogers visibly paled, though his didn’t release the tight grip on Bane’s collar. Bane decided silently that if this cop ripped one of the shirts John bought for him, Bane would kill Rogers. “That’s fine,” Rogers said tightly. “But I’ll escort him myself.” The secretary had no argument for that and glanced at Bane quickly – no doubt reading his body language – before turning back to her computer. “Come on, you.”

 

Bane was led into one of the two elevators and pushed back against the wall while Rogers pressed the button for the third floor. The interior of the elevator was deadly silent for a minute and then Rogers decided to push his luck further. “So you’re Blake’s pet, are you? Surprised he hasn’t gotten his neck snapped yet with a brute like you lumbering around.” Bane watched his own reflection in the shiny metal elevator doors, the words hitting harder because they were too close to the truth. When the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, Rogers turned to him. “Walk,” he barked.

 

Bane’s body wavered. He sought all the patience he had left in his body – which wasn’t much after years of abuse. When that didn’t work he thought of John, who had called Bane for aid and was counting on him. If Bane got into a fist fight with Rogers he would win, but he would be arrested and taken away from John, and that was unacceptable.

 

It took all of Bane’s control to put one foot in front of the other as Rogers prodded him forward, pushing against his back. Bane felt his back ache with the contact but ignored it, swallowing that anger and pushing it deep down. Thankfully it wasn’t far to the west offices, the signs leading down two hallways before Bane stepped through a door and found himself in a room filled with rows of desks.

 

There were three rows in total with the western wall full of windows spilling in afternoon sunlight. Not all of the desks were occupied at that moment, just a few in each row, though they were all covered in papers and folders to indicate that they had owners. Except for three desks on the left-side row, all of them behind the only currently occupied desk in the row – John’s.

 

John looked up from the folder he was reading over at his desk. Surprise passed over his face first, wiped away a moment later by a bright, welcoming smile. Bane smiled back and could tell John saw his smile in his eyes despite the mask covering his mouth because John’s smile turned warm, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Bane had never really understood the saying before, but now he knew for certain that he was melting.

 

The affection didn’t go away but it was sharpened when a second later Bane took the time to study John’s condition. Immediately he could see John’s right leg elevated on the corner of his desk, his pant leg drawn up slightly and his ankle bound tightly with a bandage. John had insisted that it wasn’t serious enough to be a break, but then Bane caught sight of the right side of John’s face. The majority of John’s right cheek and forehead was scraped and bruised, like he had been shoved up against a brick wall.

 

Bane was across the room in a flash, his chest clenching with protective concern. John didn’t fight when Bane touched his chin and tilted his face to the side, displaying the injuries more fully. Bane felt a growl building at the back of his throat that he didn’t entirely manage to mute, judging by the way John’s eyes widened. The damage was not serious, as John had promised him over the phone, but the sight of John’s torn skin was enough to have Bane shaking. He had made a mistake by hurting John; he refused to ever let it happen again.

 

He was jarred out of his thoughts by a hand clapping down on his left shoulder – the one that just over a month ago had been lashed deeply. Bane winced and turned slowly, though not before Rogers decided to offer a few more infuriating words. “Just because your pet has a collar doesn’t mean he doesn’t need a leash, Blake,” Rogers spoke quietly so that the group of cops at their own desks against the opposite wall wouldn’t hear. “It would be a shame if he screwed up your chance at Detective.”

 

Bane was standing face to face with Rogers now and at his full height Bane could see that he was a good half-foot taller than the detective. It felt like time slowed as Bane considered the pros and cons of breaking Rogers where he stood. It would be infinitely satisfying. But then Bane felt John’s hand grabbing his wrist, holding tightly, and Bane released all of his protective fury with one rushed breath.

 

John spoke for him, perhaps knowing that Bane was beyond the point of simple words. “Thank you for your concern, Detective. But I trust Bane with my life so I certainly trust him with my job.”

 

And just like that, even with Rogers’ stern, narrow face far too close to him, Bane melted again. Bane didn’t even wait for Rogers to leave, instead just turning his back and facing John again. It was frustrating to see the cuts and bruises on John’s face, also knowing that there were still a few fading bruises ringing John’s neck beneath makeup. But it was more calming for Bane to see John’s face until he heard the sound of Rogers’ feet storming away and a door slamming closed.

 

Once they were alone Bane grabbed a chair from the desk beside John’s in the next row, sitting down in front of his supervisor. “You didn’t have to say that, you know,” his head was bowed.

 

To his surprise John reached forward again, touching his wrist for just a moment before resting both of his hands in his lap. The touch was enough to draw Bane’s gaze, encouraging him to lift his head. “Why wouldn’t I have said it? It’s the truth.”

 

Bane looked away but didn’t bow his head again, re-experiencing the guilt he doubted would ever fully leave him. “Don’t say that.”

 

“Bane,” John’s voice was quiet but firm. “What you did wasn’t okay. But you asked me for another chance and I’m giving it to you. I’m working on forgiving you but you need to try to forgive yourself too.”

 

“I don’t know how,” Bane confessed. “I never have.”

 

“We’ll get through it together, okay?” For a moment Bane closed his eyes, basking in how soothing John’s voice and words could be to him. He breathed deeply and then nodded, offering up whatever sort of smile he could manage. Recognizing that Bane was okay, John asked another question, voice hushed to keep the other cops in the room from hearing. “How was the rest of the station besides Detective Asshole?”

 

Bane chuckled before he could stop himself, almost startling himself with the sound. John smiled wider and that made Bane smile too. “It was better than I was expecting,” Bane said. “I was preparing myself to be questioned on the spot. But everyone just let me through once they knew I was ‘yours’,” he made air quotes with his fingers.

 

John wrinkled his nose at the word and then laughed, some mix of distaste and amusement. “I don’t understand how all these cops can be so insistent on the dangers of criminals and correctees and yet act like they’re as harmless as butterflies as soon as they’re ‘slaves’,” John used air quotes as well, showing his disdain for the word. “So many of them are just hypocritical—”

 

John cut himself off when the door clicked open again, though it was just another officer returning to their desk. Bane looked back to John and leaned closer to mimic John, enjoying the way it felt like they were trading secrets in confidence. “They just trick themselves into feeling safe,” Bane said.

 

John grimaced. “Some of the people they shove into the program shouldn’t be there and others they treat like de-clawed cats, expecting them to just roll over and take orders without repercussions. They forget to treat correctees like people.”

 

“Not everyone,” Bane whispered, which earned him another smile.

 

“Still,” John said after a moment. “I’m sorry people talked to you like you’re my property. I hope you know that you are still very much an individual.”

 

“I know,” Bane assured him, “and it’s okay.” What Bane _didn’t_ say was that he had actually sort of liked hearing people call him John’s. Because that implied there was a connection between them, and that John could be Bane’s in return. Although the interactions most people probably assumed with them weren’t correct, Bane just liked knowing that people paired John and Bane as a duo in their minds.

 

John checked his watch. “By the way, how did you get here so fast? Did you run the whole way?”

 

Bane felt his ears burn with embarrassment. “Not the whole way,” he grumbled. John laughed and then winced when his smile pulled taut the torn skin on his cheek. Bane found himself staring at John’s scraped face, still simmering with anger at whoever had hurt his supervisor. “Who did this to you?”

 

“Can I tell you off the clock?” John reached over and put the folder he had been previously reading in a shoulder bag, which Bane saw was stuffed full of other files. “Gordon signed off on a few folders I can take home with me to work over the next two weeks, but I’d be glad to be out of here.”

 

John hooked the shoulder bag strap over his neck to keep it in place and made a move to stand up from his chair. Without really thinking about it Bane pushed his own chair back and stepped forward, scooping John up into his arms before he could foolishly put any weight on his injured ankle. John made an indignant squawking noise and instinctively wrapped an arm around Bane’s neck and shoulders for stability. His other hand reached down to touch Bane’s hand where it was holding John’s hip, ensuring that Bane wasn’t going to let go. The bag rested against Bane’s hip where it hung from John’s shoulder.

 

“Bane, put me down!” John grumbled, wiggling for a moment before surrendering when Bane tightened his hold to avoid dropping John.

 

Bane could see that all the other cops in the room were staring at them. They were probably a little surprised to see a correctee ignoring a direct order from a supervisor and not getting punished, and also at the sight of one of their coworkers getting carried around bridal style in the office. “This is faster,” Bane defended his decision and began making his way for the door.

 

One brazen cop decided to wolf whistle, and a few more chuckled quietly. “Piss off!” John snapped at them over the back of Bane’s shoulder before tucking his face against Bane’s neck, hiding his embarrassment as Bane walked them out the door and down the hallway. Bane was a bit distracted by the sensation of John’s hair tickling his neck but made every effort to ignore it, carrying John steadily to the elevator and nudging him to press the button.

 

John sent him a glare when they entered the elevator and pressed the ‘B’ button for the basement where the car lot likely was. “You really don’t have to carry me you know. I could’ve hobbled just fine.”

 

“I know,” Bane said, hoping John could tease out a slight apology from his tone at embarrassing John in front of his coworkers. “But there’s no sense injuring yourself just to prove a point everyone already knows.”

 

John laughed without humour. “I don’t think they know.”

 

“They know,” Bane assured him. “They weren’t malicious about their teasing, and that Detective wouldn’t threaten your promotion if you weren’t going to give him a run for his money.”

 

To his surprise John believed him, resting his head on Bane’s shoulder and not putting up any more of a fight as the elevators opened to the underground parking lot. John directed Bane to his car and then squirmed in Bane’s arms to fish out the keys from his pocket and hand them over, pressing the button to unlock the doors. With some awkward manoeuvring Bane got John settled in the passenger seat and then moved around to the driver’s side, adjusting the seat so he could actually fit.

 

When he finally got settled he noticed that John was staring at him again. Bane raised an eyebrow and John blushed lightly. “Thank you so much for coming to help me. You must’ve run all the way to get here so fast and I know you didn’t really have a choice but—”

 

“You let me have a choice,” Bane interrupted him quickly. John’s blush was darkening and spreading to his ears. “I came to help you because you always give me a choice.”

 

“It means a lot,” John told him shyly.

 

“Likewise,” Bane returned seriously.

 

John gave him a smile that made it all worth it, though the moment was interrupted when John turned and got his seatbelt done up. Bane mimicked the action and got the key slotted into the ignition, turning the car on. “Can we go somewhere else before we go home?” John questioned before Bane could put the car into gear.

 

Bane looked over quickly. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

 

“No, I’m fine,” John said, waving him off. “We have some medical personnel on staff. I’m just too riled up to be happy sitting still on the couch right now. I need to move around a bit.” Bane sent him a sceptical look and John snorted. “Don’t worry; I’m not planning to run a marathon. Just do a few laps of the parking lot to adjust to driving again and then I can give you directions. Unless you have other plans?”

 

“That’s fine,” Bane agreed easily. “I’m actually glad to get a chance to be outside the apartment for a bit. It’s nice getting a change of scenery.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

As suggested Bane did a few laps around the underground parking lot to settle back into the routine of driving before moving out onto the busier streets. Parking was harder than he remembered but the driving was fine, his movements a bit rusty but smoothing out the longer he drove. Once they were out on the streets John directed him towards the river running between Gotham and the mainland, confident in his directions.

 

It took them about ten minutes of driving before Bane was pulling into a little gravel lot and parking the car. They were right beside a sad-looking park, little muddy tufts of grass scattered about on the section parallel with the parking lot. There was a little incline closer to the water, leading to rockier terrain of sand and pebbles with a bench secured to the ground.

 

Bane pocketed the keys to keep them safe and exited the car, moving around to the passenger side. He let John shove the shoulder bag under his seat where it was out of sight before Bane hoisted John into his arms. John still grumbled about being treated like he was incompetent but didn’t seem as embarrassed now that it was just the two of them in this small park. John directed him to the sagging bench by the shore and Bane set him down carefully.

 

He wasn’t sure why John had chosen this spot, especially when he had mentioned wanting to move. Understanding came to him when John reached over the edge of the bench and picked up a handful of pebbles varying in size and set them on the bench between them. Without a word Bane got up and picked out some of the better pebbles from the area surrounding the bench, making sure there were some large enough to actually be worth throwing.

 

“Normally I’d do a bit of a run to throw them really far,” John told Bane as he picked out a hefty pebble and held it in his palm for a moment before chucking it into the water. “But this’ll do for now. This has become my routine whenever I’m just too angry to control it any longer and need release.”

 

“Why here though?” Bane picked up one of the larger stone, rolling the smoothed-down edges between the pads of his fingers. “There are probably parks further in the city with nicer ponds.”

 

“Yeah,” John agreed. “But I don’t want a pond. I like the roughness of the waves here. It always matches my mood when I come.” John chucked a few pebbles in quick succession, a few skipping once or twice before sinking below the waves. “Also, St. Swithin’s is just around the block so I could walk here as a kid. The only difference is that I throw bigger stones now.”

 

“St. Swithin’s?”

 

“The all-boys orphanage where I grew up,” John explained. Bane noticed that the next stone got thrown with an extra jerk of force. Then John surprised him. “I’d take you to see it, but I don’t think I should go right now. I don’t want the kids to see me when I’m weak.”

 

“I think you look strong,” Bane said honestly.

 

“Thanks,” John gave a half smile and threw another rock in a high arc. “But I don’t think I’m a great role model right now.”

 

Bane reached over and caught John’s wrist, stilling him long enough to hold his attention. “You’re wrong. No one is infallible and everyone needs to learn that.” John was staring at him, listening to his every word. “You could show them to fight for what they believe in even when they’re hurt and slowed down.”

 

John pursed his lips and considered Bane’s words. “I like the way you think, Bane,” he said eventually.

 

Bane worked on ignoring the stupid fluttering in his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

They spent some time throwing more stones at the park for a while before the damp breeze coming off the water chilled them. Bane picked John up and took him back to the car, following his new directions to drive two blocks away and park next to a large, only slightly-shabby building. Each time Bane picked John up he received fewer complaints, John just automatically winding an arm around Bane’s shoulders and trusting Bane to hold him steady.

 

John had warned Bane in advance that there were quite a few kids of varying ages and that they were all relatively energetic. Bane couldn’t quite name what he was feeling, whether it was nerves or excitement or some horrible medley that left his stomach twisting into knots. He liked kids better than most adults and he was looking forward to being around them even though they could be exhausting. Bane had not expected to ever come into contact with a kid again since life sentence criminals and correctees had no hope of a family future or even a chance to be given work where they could work with kids.

 

At the same time, Bane didn’t want to screw this up. These were unofficially John’s kids in every way but blood or legal contracts. Bane could tell just in the way John talked about them and his visits to the orphanage even after he had grown up that these kids were John’s family. Bane couldn’t help but fear that the kids would hate him, or he would scare them, because Bane was certain John would choose the kids over him if it came down to a choice.

 

As he had feared, when they walked into the large common playroom where all the boys were gathered they all went quiet at once and stared up at Bane with big eyes. On some faces Bane saw fear, others simple curiosity or awe at his size, but Bane found himself unable to speak. He could only imagine what a horror he looked like with his terrible mask of leather and metal. Perhaps Bane should just sit John down and then wait in the car for him.

 

John seemed more optimistic. “This is my new friend Bane,” he told them all, their eyes flicking from Bane’s face to John’s beside him.

 

The sea of eyes drifted back to Bane. “But he looks like a bad guy,” one little boy near the front muttered past the thumb stuck in his mouth.

 

“Don’t let looks fool you,” John chided them with a warm but serious tone. “He’s been helping me, so be nice.”

 

A few of them haphazardly nodded their agreement while the rest just continued to stare. Then Bane heard a door opening across the room and saw a priest stepping out, eyes studying the situation critically for a moment before he strode towards them. “John, could I have a word?” the Father requested. After a breath’s pause he added, “Alone.”

 

Despite the man’s request Bane still had to carry John to the little office in the corner of the room, sitting him down on the roller chair in front of the desk while the priest sat behind the desk. “You’ll be okay?” John caught Bane’s sleeve, forcing him to pause before he retreated.

 

“They’re just kids,” Bane reasoned, gently pulling his sleeve from John’s grasp and closing the door behind him to give them privacy.

 

He barely managed to silence his curse a second later when he saw that one of the younger boys – probably only two or three years old – had decided to attempt climbing the bookshelf against the wall, which was wobbling warningly. Bane rushed across the room and pressed one hand against the sturdy wood of the bookcase, pushing it back against the wall right as it began to tip forward on the boy. At the same time Bane caught the back collar of the boy’s shirt, holding him aloft and out of danger as the bookcase settled back into place.

 

With the hold Bane had on his shirt the boy rotated slightly, coming face to face with Bane who couldn’t stop the anxious racing of his heart. The boy blinked at him for a few long seconds, big blue eyes curious rather than scared. Then the boy reached out awkwardly and made grabby hands for Bane, little pudgy fingers clenching into fists and stretching out repeatedly as he started to whine.

 

Bane didn’t know what the boy wanted but didn’t want him to get any louder and draw the attention of the priest, who probably already wasn’t pleased with John bringing a correctee here. Not knowing what else to do, Bane held the boy closer to him. Immediately the boy latched onto Bane’s shirt and began attempting to climb up; the kid must’ve been half monkey.

 

Still trying to appease the child Bane kept one hand on his collar to make sure he didn’t fall and offered a hand under the boy’s scrabbling feet to give him a boost up. After a few moments of fumbling and determined babbling, the boy finally got perched on Bane’s shoulders. The boy seemed content with one leg hanging on each side of Bane’s head and his stubby fingers locking under Bane’s chin.

 

Bane turned around slowly, searching for somewhere to sit down so he wouldn’t accidentally dislodge the child now attached to him. When he turned he saw that the whole collection of orphans were still in a clump by the door, watching Bane and his new addition. Feeling a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny Bane looked away and moved to sit in an armchair in the corner.

 

To his surprise the group of kids followed him, swarming around him in a cluster. Bane settled into the armchair and made sure the boy on his shoulders was still stable, who had decided to rest his chin on top of Bane’s head. Saving the boy from falling must’ve been enough to win over the trust of the group because after studying Bane for a moment longer the kids moved as one, starting up a game with Bane at the centre of it all.

 

By the time the office door clicked open there was a full role play happening around Bane. The boy on his shoulders – Aaron – was a prince locked away on top of Mount Bane, and another daring prince named Tim – a boy probably around eleven with bright red hair– was attempting to rescue him. Some of the kids had abandoned the game to watch TV in the opposite corner of the room or play with other toys, but those remaining took their turns pretending to sword fight at the base of Mount Bane. A few others attempted to scale the ‘mountain’, climbing up on the armrests and Bane’s legs before dramatically pretending to tumble back to the ground, only to start again.

 

Bane was glad he wasn’t obligated to really take part in the game other than to bar the kids from climbing onto the chair too easily – he had been scolded at first when Tim climbed up and reached Aaron without any resistance from Bane on the first attempt. But Bane could feel an amused smile playing behind his mask, enjoying the children’s fun and seeing that they were no longer scared of him. It brought back fond memories.

 

As the office door opened Bane looked over. The priest was standing in the doorframe watching Bane with disdain melting into surprise as he saw the kids surrounding him and playing happily. Bane didn’t give the man much attention, instead watching John as he rolled the chair closer to settle beside Bane’s chair.

 

“Aaron—!” John scolded lightly and reached up to pull the little toddler from Bane’s shoulders.

 

Bane caught his hand and stilled him, turning his head as much as he could to meet John’s questioning gaze. “It’s fine,” Bane said simply, pleased when John could again tease out his smile even with the mask hiding it from most people.

 

John returned his hands to his lap and grinned, watching the game continue to unfold around them. The kids tried to bring John in on the story but he was mostly immobile with his ankle in such bad shape. In the end John elevated his leg by hooking his hurt ankle on the soft armrest behind Bane’s elbow where Bane could protect it from the game, and John became the designated wise man for children to consult for suggestions on how to conquer Mount Bane.

 

The game continued for a while longer and then slowly dwindled as time passed, the kids eventually growing tired. Father Reilly watched over them but seemed more relaxed after talking to John and seeing that Bane hadn’t destroyed anything in the few minutes Bane was left alone with the kids. Bane wanted to ask John what they had talked about, and how he was doing, but held the words back; it would be better to talk about serious topics in private.

 

When the game quieted down some of the younger kids wandered away to play other games or disappeared to a different room under the Father’s supervision. At the same time as the younger kids dispersed, some of the older children – some of them nearly teens judging by the look of them – gravitated back towards Bane and John. Bane supposed that when they were older they probably talked to John more, understanding better the more serious risks John took as a cop in a city like Gotham.

 

“How did you get those cuts?” one boy asked, green eyes solemn as they studied the scrapes on John’s face and then his elevated ankle.

 

Bane looked over at John too, wondering the same question. Leave it to kids to ask a question bluntly that adults were too hesitant to ask at all. He saw John’s smile waver as he struggled to maintain it. Bane considered speaking first, diverting the attention of the six kids and teens surrounding them, and distracting Aaron if he was even paying attention from where he was still perched on Bane’s shoulders.

 

John spoke up though, voice quiet but strong. “Someone didn’t believe me when I offered them a second chance.”

 

“You gave a second chance to a bad guy?” a younger boy asked, not yet at the age to fully understand that there was more than clear-cut black and white in the world.

 

“There are very few real bad guys,” John told them. “Many just need a second chance and some support along the way.” Bane jolted slightly when John looked at him and their eyes met a second before Bane glanced away again, unaccustomed to experiencing and displaying gratitude.

 

John’s comment seemed to direct the children’s attention to Bane even if John had not directly commented on the correctee/supervisor situation. The green-eyed boy was the one who spoke again, this time to Bane. “What did you do to go to prison?”

 

“ _Jacob_!” John cut the boy off before Bane could even fathom answering that question. “That is not an appropriate question to ask a stranger.”

 

Oddly, even though Bane had never wanted to discuss his past with anyone before – _especially_ not the story of why he had been arrested – Bane suddenly felt the urge to offer up the story. He wouldn’t discuss it with the kids because it really wasn’t an appropriate topic for people still so young. But maybe someday soon he’d be ready to tell John...

 

For now he didn’t want to sit silently and completely brush the kids off so Bane touched John’s knee to calm him and then focused on Jacob. “I made a mistake,” he said simply.

 

“Why?” a different boy prodded.

 

“I was trying to protect someone I cared deeply about,” Bane admitted.

 

“Did you save them?” Bane wasn’t even sure who had asked the question; it had been whispered so faintly from the crowd of boys seated in front of them and Bane was looking at his hands in his lap, now focused on fighting off the unpleasant memories.

 

He could feel many sets of eyes on him but none were heavier than John’s, even though Bane didn’t look. Bane took a deep shuddering breath. “...No.”

 

Their corner of the playroom was silent, the only sound being the TV in the opposite corner and some younger children giggling as they drove toy cars in circles. Bane was considering standing up and leaving, but he couldn’t go without John, nor was he ready to dislodge Aaron from his shoulders.

 

John moved the chair slightly closer and touched a hand to Bane’s arm, but it was actually one of the kids who spoke up first. “But you’re protecting John now.” Once again Green Eyes spoke up and Bane made a silent promise to himself to work on learning all the orphans’ names if John was willing to bring him back again in the future. “He always gets into messes to keep us safe so it’ll be good if you’re keeping _him_ safe.”

 

Bane smiled slightly at the boy’s words, and his trust in Bane to protect _their_ protector. “I’ll try my best.”

 

“Do or do not, there is no try,” a younger boy with matted black hair raised a finger as he preached his wisdom.

 

John snorted quietly. “Sorry,” he said to Bane. “They just watched Star Wars a little while ago.”

 

When Bane looked over to his supervisor he felt that same melting feeling he had experienced at the police station. Bane felt the sudden urge to pull John into his arms again, even though he had no excuse of needing to move John from one location to another. He held back the desire but widened his smile so that John and the kids could notice it in the rounding of his cheeks and the lines around the corners of his eyes.

 

He should’ve been speaking to the children but instead Bane’s gaze lingered on John. “Alright, then I _will_ ,” he promised. Bane had already made this decision and promise silently to himself, after he had hurt John and realized that he never wanted to allow that to happen to his friend again and also when he saw John hurt at the police station. But Bane wanted to make the promise aloud as well, because he wanted John to know he had someone trying to protect him the way John protected Bane and the city.

 

Some of the kids cheered and John looked like he wanted to say something in response to Bane’s words, but the moment was interrupted with Father Reilly announcing dinner. At the mention of food all the kids scattered, rushing for the door. The only child who lingered was Aaron, who clutched tightly to Bane’s head when Bane reached back and tried to pry him off. Aaron began to sniffle warningly when Bane finally got him dislodged so Bane briefly sat Aaron on his leg, wiping away a stray tear with one large thumb.

 

“We’ll come back, Aaron,” John assured the boy, sliding the rolling chair closer so that he could stroke the boy’s hair. With the new position John’s foot was digging into Bane’s hip but Bane didn’t mind. “Whenever Bane and I have time we’ll visit.”

 

John looked to Bane for confirmation and Bane nodded, wiping another of the boy’s tears away. Although memories of his past plagued him as he attempted to comfort Aaron, his innate inclination to protect and comfort children was as strong as ever. Children always seemed to feel safe and calm around Bane, drawn to him even now despite his monstrous physique.

 

“We’ll be back,” Bane said, gruff but not unkind. “But for now you should go enjoy dinner.”

 

Aaron stuck his thumb in his mouth but stopped sniffling. Taking this as a good sign Bane hooked his hands under Aaron’s arms and set him down on the floor. Aaron continued to stare up at Bane until Father Reilly walked over and nudged the boy towards the door. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner,” the Father offered to them once Aaron began the trek out into the hall.

 

Bane turned to John, allowing him to make the decision. “Thank you,” John smiled. “But we should be getting home. Thank you for having us.”

 

“You’re always welcome here, John,” Reilly said. “And your...” he hesitated for just a moment and then gave a polite smile. “Friend.”

 

The fact that he had said friend instead of correctee meant a lot to Bane; most people didn’t bother trying to see the person beyond the collar and mask. When the Father reached forward Bane shook his hand, and then pulled himself out of the armchair when Reilly excused himself to help with dinner.

 

John and Bane were left alone in the playroom and Bane smiled when John held his arms out for Bane, fingers spread wide in the same way Aaron had reached for him. Bane scooped John up in his arms and held him close, heading for the car and getting them both seated. “Let’s pick up dinner on the way home; I’m feeling lazy tonight,” John suggested as he checked to ensure his work files were still hidden under the seat and pulled out his wallet from the bag.

 

“It’s unnecessarily-spent money,” Bane said, starting the engine but keeping the car in park.

 

“Once in a while it’s worth it,” John said, grabbing his phone from his pocket. “I’ll order a pizza and we’ll pick it up on the way home.”

 

Even though Bane wasn’t entirely happy about seeing John spend more money, he hoped that John would soon allow Bane to start helping to earn money as well. And in the end Bane couldn’t lecture John on how to spend his own money. They argued over pizza toppings for a minute and then John ordered the pizza and directed Bane to the proper location to pick it up. Getting from the car to the apartment was a little extra hassle, eventually ending up with Bane carrying John and the bag and John carrying the pizza and apartment key, but they finally managed to fumble their way in and get seated.

 

The pizza box got set on the coffee table and John placed on the couch with his shoulder bag at his feet. John unhooked Bane’s mask and set it aside and then Bane moved to the kitchen, pouring their drinks. They slipped a random DVD into the player and munched quietly on their pizza. Bane hadn’t felt tired at the orphanage but now he did, his worry for John’s safety as well as his run to the police station and the energy required to deal with kids wearing him down.

 

John seemed pretty exhausted too from the day of work and the attack, though when they were both done eating John chose to focus on Bane instead of the TV. “You were really great with the kids today. I’ve never seen them take to a stranger like that before.”

 

Bane tried to shrug off the comment even though he found it hard to quell his small smile. “I didn’t know it was a big deal. I figured they were just happy to have a new playmate. And I was born to play a mountain,” he joked.

 

“You made an excellent mountain,” John praised with a laugh. “But seriously. They’re normally shy around everyone except me and anyone else who has been involved with the orphanage. They were just...drawn to you.”

 

“Kids have always liked being around me, I don’t know why,” Bane said. “Though I’m glad to see that the mask and collar don’t scare them off now.”

 

“Children can tell, I think,” John said thoughtfully. “They can see beyond appearances and really judge a person for who they are. They believe in second chances too.”

 

“Speaking of second chances...” Bane began and then paused, wondering if he was overstepping boundaries. When he looked over John had an open expression on his face, encouraging Bane to continue. Bane reached forward and touched John’s jaw for just a second, tilting his face slightly to better display the injury. “Who else besides me was foolish enough to rebuff your second chance?”

 

This time John’s laugh was abrupt, like he wasn’t sure whether Bane was making a joke or not. It didn’t really matter since John’s smile slipped away fully after a moment, the topic far too serious to maintain a genuine smile. “I caught this girl shoplifting. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen; just old enough to get in serious trouble with the law.”

 

“You tried to let her off with a warning,” Bane assumed.

 

John sighed and rubbed his hands over his face tiredly. When John continued, he spoke into his hands. “Does that make me a bad cop? I’m sure you know by now the abuses in law enforcement when it comes to the CCP.”

 

“I’ve heard that cops have been pressured to clear criminals off the streets since the issue of overcrowded prisons has been dealt with,” Bane said carefully, knowing this was dangerous territory since John was also a cop. “And I’ve seen some cops meet their quotas by arresting petty criminals since they’re more numerous and easier to catch than the big crime bosses.”

 

John was still cradling his head in his hands as though nursing a headache. “It disgusts me to say that is exactly true. Luckily Commissioner Gordon doesn’t put pressure on us despite the pressure _he_ receives from higher-ups, but there are still many cops in the city who are happy to put anyone they see as criminal into the program. They think they’re doing the world a favour,” John spat, his shoulders hunching up as his anger rose. Bane recognized that anger, was familiar with it; he knew its addictive sting. “Cleaning the streets for the good folks and teaching a lesson to the bad.”

 

“But not you,” Bane pointed out, wondering if he could help John level off before he got himself too worked up.

 

“Yeah well it doesn’t really matter, does it?” John rested his elbows on his thighs and curled forward, head still cradled in his palms. “One cop can’t change much in a whole city.”

 

Bane took a risk and stretched an arm out, resting his hand on John’s shoulder. “Do not underestimate yourself.”

 

He was pleased when John relaxed slightly at the touch, though John was nowhere near close to being calm. “I did what I thought was right. I told her to run and use the opportunity to start over. Stop committing crimes before they became serious and she got caught. I didn’t want to arrest her! What she’ll probably go through if she chooses to be a correctee, which I’m sure a young energetic girl like her will choose over prison...”

 

“Shhh,” Bane hushed John, squeezing his shoulder to draw John’s attention away from those dark thoughts. Bane had learned long ago that while it was important to remain aware and not be naive about the problems of the world, agonizing over them and holding them too closely would only poison you. John and Bane both knew the statistics, how likely it was for female correctees to be sexually assaulted, but dwelling could not change facts.

 

“I was going to let her go, my quotas be damned. But then this man – who we found out was her brother when we got back to the station – stumbled into the alley with us, saw my uniform and her crying and pleading and made assumptions. He came at me and she rushed forward to pin my arms long enough for him to get to me before I got my gun out.” John pinched the bridge of his nose and released an angry huff. “He fucked them both over. The man shoved me against the brick of the alley and brought his foot down on my ankle. They were both holding me against the wall when backup arrived and after that there was nothing I could do. They were both charged with assaulting an officer.”

 

John swiped angrily at his eyes with the heels of his hands, pressing hard enough that John probably saw spots on his vision for a few seconds. “I’m sorry; you must think I’m being foolish and oversensitive. Here I am complaining about how much I don’t want to arrest people and you’ve already lived seven years of the life I was trying to protect them from.”

 

“I understand your frustration, John,” Bane held fast to John’s shoulder as though he feared John might just slip away if he wasn’t careful. “But you cannot take responsibility for everyone’s actions. The world is too large.”

 

Bane felt John lean a little closer, though there was still almost an arm’s length of distance between them. Bane hoped the slight lean was because John was taking comfort from Bane’s words or touch. John clenched his hands into fists on his thighs, still not rid of his deep-seated anger. “I want to go back to throw more rocks but it’s too late. And I can’t even go running with my ankle the way it is.”

 

“It’s not too late,” Bane said. “I’ll drive you back.”

 

John shook his head slowly, eyes closed as his body slowly relaxed further beneath Bane’s hand. “I’m too tired. Even talking to Father Reilly was exhausting today when he scolded me for bringing you. I’m glad you proved him wrong.” Bane remained silent, not knowing what to say. “I don’t even have enough energy to properly ask you about why you got arrested. I was so excited and curious to ask when you hinted at the story while we were at the orphanage. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity...”

 

“The opportunity has not been missed,” Bane assured John, remembering back at the orphanage when he had felt the desire to finally tell his story.

 

John tilted his head just slightly to look at Bane. “Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

The next breath John released was calmer, even and measured. Although John’s smile did not fully return, Bane didn’t miss the twitch at the corner of John’s lips. “That makes me happy.”

 

“How about an early night?” Bane suggested without putting too much pressure on the idea. He knew that John would either benefit from a distraction or sleep, depending on how much of a handle he had on his fading anger.

 

As if on cue John yawned, looking a little sheepish as he covered his mouth. “That sounds good. Sleep would do me more good than sitting here and stewing over the day.” John stretched and shuffled towards the edge of the couch. “I think I’ll be fine hobbling to the bathroom and bed if you’d be willing to clean up.”

 

“I can clean up and then carry you,” Bane said and stood up.

 

John held out a hand and Bane took it, lifting John carefully to his feet. But once he was steady John pulled his hand away, resting the majority of his weight on his left leg. “I appreciate the offer, Bane,” John smiled. “But it’s not far and I’d like to make sure I can actually do something on my own. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

Bane stepped aside and allowed John to shuffle towards the hallway and the bathroom. After all, even though he wanted to just pick John up in his arms again and ensure John didn’t get injured any further, Bane could also understand John’s desire to remain at least somewhat independent. So he stood aside and simply watched until John made it into the bathroom, which was when Bane finally turned and started cleaning up the kitchen.

 

That night Bane slept incredibly well, greeted by the dream of a warm sunny beach again. This time he did not dream of an unharmed back but instead felt the slight tenderness of the new skin on his back pressing against the hammock. It was pleasant instead of uncomfortable to know he had been hurt but would continue to heal. The waves lapped lazily against the shore, the wind a mere whisper of breath against Bane’s bare chest.

 

The best part was that Bane was no longer alone. His companion rested on top of Bane in the hammock, bare chest to bare chest, legs entwined and soft hair tickling under Bane’s chin. Bane didn’t open his eyes but he knew the voice when his companion spoke. It was a voice Bane had grown familiar with, one he waited to hear each day. The voice was comforting and the words took fast hold of Bane’s heart, winding around it so tightly that Bane couldn’t help but remember the pulse of affection even when he woke the following morning.

 

“I’m happy.”


	8. Chapter 8

Two weeks with John home from work was even better than Bane had imagined. Not that Bane was happy to see John in pain, or trapped without much opportunity to move around. But even though John got antsy whenever he was stuck in the apartment for too long, John seemed to settle in and start to enjoy the time off as well.

 

The two weeks of sick leave were paid, which meant that John still had some paperwork to work on even when he was at home. It wasn’t really a hardship; Bane saw the way John lost himself in work, lips moving minutely with concentration as he read pages upon pages. The files from work helped keep John’s mind active even if his body was stuck on the couch with his leg elevated, which made the days pass faster for him.

 

For a few days John spent hours of the day on the files and Bane left him mostly alone. Although he wanted to help, Bane wasn’t sure of the boundaries when it came to police files, knowing the issues of confidentiality and trusting a correctee with that sort of information. John seemed content working on his own too and even though the little thread of affection was still in a messy tangle around Bane’s heart after that dream of the beach, Bane refused to intrude.

 

John didn’t usually say much until the late afternoons when he finally put the files away and suggested a movie and dinner. After that Bane always had to take John’s shoulder bag away and move him to his computer or get something playing on the TV, realizing quite quickly that John was a workaholic who didn’t know how to stop when the work was at home with him.

 

Bane could understand it; without any family and only a few friends Bane had heard about in passing, John didn’t have a large social network. When people were alone they often threw themselves into their work, seeking a distraction and escape. If they were working then they could tell themselves that it didn’t matter that they weren’t social often, because they were doing something _good_ with their time.

 

Bane knew that mindset well. It was why he made such an efficient correctee even when he hated his supervisors. He preferred to work, and work _well_ rather than sit in his room or dorm, whatever tiny sliver of space in the world he had been given as his own, and think about how much he hated the world.

 

On Monday, three days in, things changed. Bane was watering the plants on the windowsill silently, not expecting any sort of conversation with John who was seated on the couch with a file open in his lap and other papers scattered about on every available surface. It was still late morning, long before John would even think about lifting his head at the thought of food, let alone rest. Which was why Bane jumped slightly when John’s soft voice drifted over him, “Those plants love you.”

 

Bane controlled the warmth filling him like a swelling wave, and when he couldn’t contain it he told himself it was just because he was standing in the bright sunlight. He didn’t turn at first, instead watering the last plant on the sill. “They love not being ignored,” he shot back as he turned to face his friend. When he smiled in slight mockery he was glad John saw it; John only made Bane wear his mask to sleep while he was home.

 

“I started off by not ignoring them,” John defended, fake scowling. “They still refused to grow. I’m glad you have more of a green thumb with plants,” John’s scowl didn’t last long, fading into a thoughtful smile. “I like having life in my apartment; seeing the plants flourish.”

 

“I do what I can,” Bane shrugged, setting the now-empty glass on the sill where he would pick it up tomorrow to water again.

 

“Tell me,” John held his pen up and tapped it against his lips in thought. “Are you as good with puzzles as you are with plants?” Bane raised an eyebrow and took a half-step closer, wondering if this was an invitation. Seeming to realize that Bane needed to be reassured, John picked up all the papers beside him and moved them onto the armrest, clearing up just enough space for Bane to sit beside John. “I’d love your opinion on this case.”

 

“Am I allowed to see those files? I’m not officially working for the police yet.” Despite Bane’s uncertain words he moved to the couch and sat down beside John all the same. He didn’t let his brain point out that there were only a few inches of air between their thighs with the space John had made for him.

 

John was still watching him as he settled. “I already spoke to Gordon. I explained that you wanted to work with me for the police, but I also told him that you’re not just a brute. You have a sharp intelligence we can benefit from,” John said. “He’d like to do a short interview with you before you start officially; talk over what your responsibilities might be and so on. But he agreed to let you work with me.”

 

Bane was struggling to remain at least somewhat calm. To restrain himself from grinning Bane glanced at the file in John’s lap. “So I’m allowed to look at these files?”

 

“Consider this your first test,” John said and handed the file over to him. Bane set it on his thighs, stacks of scattered pages filling the file. “I used my first two days at home to finish up any boring paperwork I had to complete, but now I get to move onto the good stuff and I want your help.”

 

After a moment of study Bane realized this was the same file John had been staring at since they had finished breakfast. “Want my help?” Bane glanced at John, smirking. “Or _need_ it?”

 

John’s eyebrows knit together with determination. “Both, if you must know. I wasn’t expecting to solve this in an hour but I’d also appreciate your input. This file has been passed around half the office by now; no one can solve it. All we know is that once every few months a dead body shows up with markings cut into it. If it’s a language then it’s a dead one. Otherwise it’s a language someone has made up because no specialists recognized it. The pictures are graphic,” John warned him.

 

Bane’s fingers were steady as he flipped through the pages to the photographs at the back. “I’ve seen worse,” he told John. It wasn’t something he was proud of; just a fact. There were three different bodies in the collection of photos as far as Bane could tell. Two women, one man. One girl was probably in her twenties, the other in her fifties, and the man probably early thirties. The only similarity Bane could immediately pick out between the three victims was the small symbols, dedicatedly carved neatly into bare flesh. When Bane saw the symbols he thought they had a hint of familiarity, but he knew he didn’t know a language that looked like this. “Not many similarities.”

 

“ _None_ ,” John corrected. “Except the symbols. No connections at all. The three targets are all completely different with no connections to each other that we can find. The killer doesn’t even leave them in similar places, though it’s always populated enough for someone to find them and report to the police the following morning.”

 

“How does the killer kill them?” Bane asked, flipping back through some of the sheets of information. “I don’t see any injuries except for the cuts and they’re not deep enough to make the victims bleed out.”

 

“The killer drowns them,” John explained, saving Bane some time from having to read through all the information, though by now Bane was curious enough to know he would probably spend the rest of the day reading through the whole file.

 

“And you can’t use that to figure out who it might be?” Bane wondered.

 

“With Gotham on the river it’s impossible to keep surveillance everywhere. Not to mention all the swimming pools and ponds around town,” John leaned a little closer, looking over the file as well even though he had already been studying it for hours. John had showered that morning; Bane could smell his shampoo. “But the worst part is that the killer could’ve just shoved their face into a full sink for all we know. There’s no indication on the rest of their body that they got waterlogged from being submerged.”

 

“Do you mind if I read through this?” Bane picked up the first of many pieces of paper with information printed on it.

 

“Be my guest,” John sighed and grabbed another file from his bag. “I’ve gotten quite sick of looking at that one. Maybe you’ll see something I don’t and I can solve one of these other problem cases. Especially the messages told through the symbols.”

 

“I thought you said no one recognized the language,” Bane flipped through more of the file until he found a collection of pages all with messages written on them. Most of the messages were nonsensical, different people attempting to crack the code of the symbols, but only three pages made complete sense with the symbols shown on the three bodies. All three messages were filled with clear delusions of grandeur and were almost painful to read.

 

_Accept my message bearer who has been blessed to carry my teachings._

 

_I have been granted the knowledge to show society the path to purity._

_I will be the leader of a new world where evil does not exist. I will free you from darkness._

 

“They think pretty highly of themselves,” Bane mused.

 

John snorted. “And you’re just getting started.”

 

Bane started reading through the file collecting information while John worked on his own, and before either of them realized it the clock was reading 3pm. They had completely forgotten about lunch and only then did Bane realize why he had a headache. He peeled himself away from the couch and headed into the kitchen to make them something to eat. When the food was ready he had to forcefully take John’s file from his hands and push the plate into his grasp instead. They still ended up talking as they both ate, and when they were done Bane just set the plates away before returning to the living room so they could continue their discussion.

 

By Wednesday it was a solidified routine. They would wake up in the morning and have breakfast together and then look over and discuss files until lunch. After their second meal Bane would willingly wear his mask just to take John outside and remind him that he needed something other than work in his life; that John wasn’t alone anymore and that it was alright to take breaks and enjoy the warming weather of the approaching summer months.

 

Sometimes they just went for a drive with the windows down and the music up. Other times they went to cast stones into the unforgiving river. They visited the orphanage again and even spent one afternoon in the park, both of them with a book from home as they lounged on the grass and soaked in the sun. Bane liked these moments best because even though he enjoyed seeing John working at what he was best at, he liked seeing his friend relax and enjoy life even more.

 

Whenever they returned home after their afternoon break they would split apart for a few hours for some alone time, both of them still independent despite their growing friendship. Bane would usually run in the gym and often found John on his computer when he returned back. Over dinner they discussed the work files more when they had a fresh mind and perspective, and then they would finish off the evening with a movie or book.

 

Friday morning was when they solved their first case after a two hour long discussion. It wasn’t the case of the serial killer who carved unknown symbols into their victims’ skin but it was another case that had been left unanswered for almost a month. Bane had been studying the photos again even though he had looked at them countless times before, but it was only this time that he noticed a new detail.

 

The murderer had only killed one victim – a young skinny girl no older than twenty – but it was a gruesome sight. Beheaded; with the head found resting on her bare, beaten chest. Bane’s eyes were drawn away from the sight to her inner arm at the crook of her elbow where a tattoo spiralled in a circle. This tattoo always drew his attention; it was like a bulls-eye without a purpose. Except this time he noticed something on the edge of the tattoo. It could have been a shadow but Bane had his suspicions.

 

He passed the photo back to John to look over and when they were in agreement they called the police station. John explained to Gordon over the phone their thoughts, the excitement in their kitchen tangible and no doubt obvious in John’s voice. It wasn’t until late that evening when John got a call back, but it was a good call to receive.

 

They had examined the body where it remained in the morgue. As Bane had suspected, hidden by the dark bruising and the black ink of the tattoo was a tiny needle pinprick. The cops would’ve probably found it if they had been specifically looking for it, but nothing in the girl’s file had indicated she was an addict when she had gone missing from her parents’ home three days before her body was found. Bane had only noticed it because he was accustomed to picking out the scars of addicts in prison, wanting to avoid them when they were newly thrown in prison and still experiencing withdrawal.

 

“The case is reopened,” John told Bane once he had hung up the phone. Bane wondered if John’s face hurt, smiling that widely. “They think they can re-examine some of the traffic camera footage and interviews they conducted after her body was found. She was from a crappy neighbourhood; no one was paying much attention to drug dealer information at the time since she wasn’t known to be an addict. Bane, this is incredible!”

 

John was still supposed to stay off his ankle so Bane grunted with surprise when John suddenly stood and covered the few paces between them. All at once Bane had John’s arms wound around him and before Bane really thought about it Bane was hugging him back, arms tight around John’s waist. The hug didn’t last long, John wavering with his weight only on one leg, but Bane knew he wouldn’t forget the embrace. He hadn’t been hugged like this in over a decade.

 

Bane knew John had become less fussy about getting picked up now since John knew the less he walked on his ankle the faster it would heal. Bane took advantage of this and lifted John into his arms, sitting him back down. “We should celebrate,” he said. He was a little surprised by his own daring; he never would have suggested such a thing to any of his other supervisors. But John wasn’t like his other supervisors, especially with him smirking the way he was.

 

“We should! And I know just what we should do.” Bane watched with slight worry as John half-stood, and then calmed when John changed his mind and sat back down before he tested his ankle. “Grab the bottle of scotch from the top cabinet over the fridge, would you? I can’t remember the last time I had a drink.”

 

Bane got the bottle of scotch and handed it to John, proceeding to carry John to the couch afterwards. He grabbed two glasses for them and sat in his usual place on the left side of the couch, John always on the right. As John poured the drinks Bane looked John over. He remembered how differently things had been just under three weeks ago. Bane had been scared and clutching desperately at his ideal of freedom and John had been on this couch, cowering from him. Now Bane actually caught himself thinking of the apartment as home once in a while, and John was growing more comfortable around Bane by the day.

 

“We should take the weekend off,” Bane suggested as he took the glass John offered him.

 

“And do what?”

 

Bane watched as John took his first sip and grimaced at the strength of the scotch; it really must’ve been a long time since he last drank. Bane took his own sip and shivered as heat pooled in his stomach. “I don’t know. Something that doesn’t involve cases. You’re not even a detective yet and you work your ass off.”

 

John smoothed the pad of one finger along the rim of his glass, thoughtful. “I’ve wanted to be detective for so long,” John confessed. “I dreamt about it at night when I couldn’t sleep at St. Swithin’s. I dreamt of solving puzzles no one else could unravel and rushing in to save someone from a killer at the last moment.”

 

“No wonder why you’re always stressed,” Bane took another sip. “You always think like you’re the only person who can save everyone.”

 

John’s face flushed and Bane knew it wasn’t from the alcohol. “It’s not that I’m egotistical and think I’m the only one who can. I just want to be able to save others from the childhood I experienced. My mom died in a car crash when I was young. I don’t even remember it,” John stumbled into the story suddenly.

 

Bane knew it still wasn’t the alcohol affecting John – he had seen the way people babbled in a rush with alcohol loosening their tongue. It seemed like this story was one that rested just below John’s skin, waiting to be told and heard. The way Bane’s story about his arrest gnawed at him. John wanted to tell Bane this story; had perhaps been considering the right moment for a while now, and Bane wasn’t going to interrupt.

 

“I remember what it was like after though. Dad fell into a depression when he lost mom; blamed himself for the crash.” At this point John had completely forgotten the drink in his hands. “He got into drinking and gambling, trying to make enough money to buy more booze even though he just kept working himself deeper into a hole. I remember many nights where I lay in bed and couldn’t sleep because I was too cold and hungry. No money for heating or food.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Bane said even though he knew it couldn’t help or change the past. It was interesting but not at all comforting for Bane to know that John had had such a horrible childhood, while Bane’s childhood had been perfectly ordinary; Bane’s life had only crashed and burned years later.

 

John waved him off and took a large gulp of his scotch, shuddering with it as he forced himself to swallow. “I was old enough to remember when he was killed. It was a few years after my mom died and my dad was in a bad way; he had a serious gambling debt. I remember waking up to the sound of a door banging open, and then there were these two huge guys in my room. They h-held a knife to my throat...” Bane closed his eyes, hating himself all over again for pulling that knife on John. “They told me to not scream or they’d kill me too. Then they went for my dad. It was quick but I…I _heard_ it. I heard his scream cut off. And then they were gone. By the time I called the police it was too late.”

 

John stood up quickly and cursed as he fell back against the couch, his free hand reaching down to hold his wrapped ankle. Without really thinking about the consequences or the boundaries Bane reached over and carefully grabbed John’s legs, turning him until John was seated along the length of the couch with his ankles resting on Bane’s thighs.

 

“Bane, what—?” John cut himself off with a quiet groan when Bane gently wrapped his hands loosely around John’s ankle. He allowed heat to sink into John’s ankle before massaging with care, not wanting to make things worse but hoping he could brush away some of the pain that still tormented John when he foolishly attempted to walk on his own. “Fuck, that feels good,” John moaned in a way that sounded a bit obscene, though Bane said nothing.

 

For a while they stayed like that, both of them sipping their drinks occasionally between moments when Bane was massaging John’s ankle. They stopped after their second drink, not intent on getting drunk. But even though they should’ve moved apart after that, and even though the position should’ve felt awkward, neither of them seemed keen on changing their positions. In the silence Bane was working up his courage to speak, knowing this was the moment he wanted to offer his story in return.

 

“I killed three people,” Bane whispered after a long time.

 

He didn’t dare look over at John. Bane didn’t know how he would survive if he saw disgust or fear in those brown eyes again. John’s voice was level though when he finally spoke. “Is that why you were arrested?”

 

“Yes,” Bane still didn’t look up. It was easier for him to focus on John’s ankle, to force out the words now that he had begun. “And I don’t regret it. I never have, even considering the life I lost because of it.”

 

John’s leg twitched under Bane’s hand but John didn’t pull away. “You said at the orphanage that you were trying to protect someone you cared about, and that you failed.” There was a heavy moment of silence and John continued when it was clear Bane needed prompting. “Who was it?”

 

Bane’s voice was hushed. By now the memories had sunk their claws in; Bane was a mere vessel for the story. “Her name was Talia.” Finally Bane glanced over to John, continuing only when he saw open curiosity on his friend’s face. “Her parents were friends with my parents; neighbours across the street. I was two when she was born and as soon as I saw her all bundled up in a blanket she became the sister I never had. I don’t know why,” Bane admitted. “I mean, at two years old you don’t think much about responsibility. But she loved me and I loved her right back.”

 

“Even when you were a kid, other kids loved you,” John said with a small smile.

 

“Yeah,” Bane couldn’t help but smile a little as well at the thought. “But no one as much as Talia. She would cry if she was taken from my arms. I think it drove her parents a bit crazy to be honest,” Bane chuckled. “But I would take her everywhere with me. She would ride on my back with her arms around my neck. Light as a feather, I swear. She was always tiny.”

 

“Talia was brilliant too,” Bane continued. “By the time I was four and I was supposed to start kindergarten she was getting signed up for pre-school. It was by grade three that we ended up in the same class even though she was two years younger; hell, sometimes she would help _me_ with the homework. And she was always like that. She was as sharp as a blade and burned bright like a flame.” Bane smiled to himself as he remembered the early years, and the pride he always felt for his closest friend. “The teachers offered to advance her to higher grades but she always refused.”

 

“She wanted to stay in the same grade as you,” John guessed.

 

“Talia never admitted it when I confronted her about it, but I know that was probably the reason,” Bane said. “Not that I was complaining. I always knew she was something special but I was glad to know she never had any intention of leaving me behind. So all throughout school we remained in the same grade despite her age. We weren’t always in the same class but we always ate lunch together, and worked on homework together after school.”

 

Bane drummed his fingers lightly against John’s leg for a moment as he thought, pulling up more memories. The memories hurt but they were addictive; Bane hadn’t let himself think about Talia for a long time. “We were a duo for years and we were perfectly happy like that. It was in our third year of high school when we met a boy named Barsad, a new transfer student. Well, Talia met him first,” Bane corrected himself. “I hated him.”

 

He noticed John leaning a little closer. “Why?”

 

“I can admit now that I was jealous, though I wouldn’t at the time,” Bane said. “It wasn’t that I ever had romantic feelings for Talia; she was always my sister in my mind. But that didn’t mean I liked the idea of someone else butting into our relationship and stealing her away from me. She was my only friend, my confidant and support, and suddenly there was this handsome boy making her smile and laugh. Barsad had three classes with her and I only had one and even _that_ bothered me.”

 

“One day Barsad and I were both waiting by Talia’s locker for her to finish up with one of her debate club meetings. I crowded him against the locker and told him that he needed to back off. I said some other pretty horrible and threatening things but I can’t quite remember now. Needlessly to say, when I grabbed his shoulder and shoved him towards the exit with a glare, he ran. I wasn’t as big then as I am now but Barsad was always wiry.”

 

“And that was the end of it?” John wondered.

 

Bane snorted. “Oh no. Talia always got what she wanted, and apparently she wanted Barsad. She told me off for scaring him away and admitted to me her feelings for him. But then she hugged me and told me it would be alright, that I would always be her brother and she always wanted me by her side. Talia was amazing at reading people like that,” he explained to John. “She could just read your fears like you wore them on your sleeve.”

 

“On the walk home she told me that she didn’t want to date someone who would run away in the face of adversity anyway, and that it had probably been for the best. I could still see her disappointment though, so the next day at school I looked for Barsad before class. To my surprise, he found me first.” Bane smoothed his thumb over John’s ankle when John made a slightly surprised sound. “To my shock he calmly and briefly listed all the reasons why he wanted to make Talia happy, and then asked my permission for a chance.”

 

“And did you say yes?”

 

“I did,” Bane closed his eyes, lost in the memory. “I told him I would break him if he hurt her, but I would give him a chance. And you know...” Bane weathered his bottom lip. “I never once regretted it. Barsad didn’t just run off and take Talia with him. He worked hard to become part of our group, respecting our relationship. He and Talia started dating a few weeks after that, and we all went to college together and we became family.”

 

“It took a while but Barsad was never deterred. He was always calm, smart and fiercely loyal. I liked that about him; I never questioned his motivations once I got to know him. Barsad was my brother as much as Talia was my sister and I was so happy when Barsad asked for my permission to ask Talia to marry him. We were college juniors; he wanted to ask her in another year when we graduated but was planning ahead.” Bane’s voice betrayed him then, wobbling and fading out.

 

He brought his hands up and covered his face, fingers pressing hard against his eyes to quell the tears before they began. It had been years since he had allowed himself to think so fully about these memories, to let them cut into his heart again. It hadn’t been safe to show weakness to any of his supervisors and certainly not in prison. But here with John...Bane felt safe.

 

Bane felt John moving, pulling his legs away and Bane reached for him blindly, knowing he couldn’t be alone right now. But John was there, moving to sit right beside Bane. A warm arm wrapped around Bane’s shoulders and held Bane together, kept him from falling to pieces. “It’s alright,” John soothed quietly. “Shhh, it’s alright.”

 

It really wasn’t alright. Knowing that Talia would never get her chance to shine as brightly as she could, to get married and have kids and be a wonderful mother and friend and wife. Knowing Bane would never see her eyes light up with mischief or burn with determination, or hear her chiming laughter again. It wasn’t alright; it never would be alright. A piece of Bane would always be missing. But with John there Bane wondered if he might finally have a reason to continue on.

 

“We were still in junior year,” Bane whispered, only finding the will to continue speaking when John held him a little tighter. “Talia was always so... She was so _stubborn_!” Bane laughed even though it sounded more like a sob, because the memories were painful but they were also fond. “She would get an idea or plan in her head and she’d never let it go until she accomplished her goal. Talia got so much done with that mindset, but she also put herself in unnecessary danger.”

 

“It was early March, I remember.” Bane was pressing his hands against his face again, feeling his nose burn as a few tears slipped free. “The three of us were living together and Talia headed downtown for a meeting with some volunteer group. Barsad and I insisted on walking her there since the meeting was going to run late but she refused, informing us quite viciously that she could take care of herself. She put on her favourite scarf and hat – presents from Barsad and I for Christmas that year – and then walked out the door.”

 

Bane fell silent. He couldn’t relive anymore of this; he wasn’t strong enough. Bane worried John would force him to continue speaking but John didn’t. His supervisor and friend merely sat beside Bane, a solid arm around Bane’s shoulders offering silent comfort. But after a few minutes the urge to keep talking built inside Bane as an uncontrollable pressure, telling him that he had to talk about this before he could move on. Burying it for twelve years had done nothing to help, but maybe talking to John would.

 

“We texted her and called but her phone was turned off,” Bane started speaking again, slow at first but gaining momentum. “Talia didn’t tell us exactly where she was going so we broke into her email and found the address. But by the time we got there it was nearly 4am and there was no one on the streets. We called the police but they said they had to wait twenty four hours before they could officially label her as missing.”

 

John scoffed quietly, no doubt just as frustrated with the law as Bane was, but said nothing else to interrupt. “Barsad and I had no intention of waiting and we had enough intelligence between us to figure some information out. Barsad was always particularly handy with computers and technology. We were able to track down the name of the person who had rented the downtown venue for the meeting and got an address. There was no phone number but we weren’t going to wait so we headed over immediately.”

 

John’s fingers dug into Bane’s shoulder as though trying to pull him back, to stop him from going to the address even though he was twelve years too late. The grip was almost painful but Bane didn’t mind; it grounded him and saved him from getting fully lost in his memories. “We were just going to ask them if they saw anyone odd on the streets when the meeting ended, but when we got to this run-down old house by the river we heard a scream and we lost it.”

 

“We saw some lights from the basement windows while the rest of the house was dark so we snuck around to find the back door and forced it open. The screaming was piercing and constant until... it stopped. Barsad and I didn’t know what to expect so we grabbed knives from the kitchen and found the stairs heading down to the basement.” Bane was staring straight ahead at the wall, unable to see anything beyond what was replaying in his mind’s eye.

 

“Talia was tied to a table, naked and bleeding. Her eyes were wide and glassy – unseeing. Her throat...” Bane lifted a hand and dragged two fingers mindlessly across the column of his neck. “There were three guys, two of them naked and the third guy with a bloody knife in his hand. I ran in and Barsad was right there with me and as brothers we killed them. Someone must’ve heard the screams – Talia’s or theirs – because the police showed up just in time to find us covered in blood.”

 

For the first time in a while John spoke up. “Didn’t they take into consideration the fact that they had kidnapped and killed Talia though? What you did wasn’t self defence since you tracked them down and broke into the house, but I’m still surprised that you got a life sentence.”

 

“You don’t understand, John.” Bane was shaking so badly he felt sick. Or maybe that was the images in his head churning his stomach. He couldn’t look at John; couldn’t meet those understanding eyes. “We didn’t just kill them. We _butchered_ them for what they did to Talia, for taking her away from us.”

 

Those images would never leave Bane. Nor would the sounds of Talia’s screams, the squelch of shoes in the pools of blood, or the sobbing Bane could only identify later as his own and Barsad’s. It would never be okay again. Talia’s life had been taken too soon, too violently. Bane could never regret what he did to her attackers but it wouldn’t bring her back.

 

Bane finally broke and sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I failed her.”

 

He felt John moving but couldn’t tell what he was doing until John was wrapping both arms around him, hugging him tightly. “You didn’t fail her,” John whispered in his ear, making sure Bane couldn’t ignore the words. “You found her and you stopped them before they could do anything else. I know it doesn’t feel like it but you protected her, because if you two hadn’t shown up they might’ve done more.”

 

It was a harsh fact to consider, one that brought up more mental images that had vomit teasing the back of Bane’s throat. But it was true; if Bane and Barsad hadn’t shown up those men could’ve done a lot more and a lot worse to her body. Talia may have never been found; her body never put to rest where her friends and family could properly mourn and say goodbye. The thought made Bane sick but it gave him enough strength to breathe shakily.

 

“How are you still here?” Bane choked out, his only comfort the arms around him. “How are you not terrified of me? Or disgusted?”

 

“Because I know what it’s like to have someone take a person you love away from you, and to wish with all your being for an opportunity to make them pay,” John said, forehead against Bane’s right shoulder where he was kneeling beside Bane. “I know that anger, and that self-hatred that always insists I could’ve done more.”

 

“How do you keep going?” Bane almost begged, because right now he didn’t know how to live through another minute of this. He had drawn up the memories and told his story and the grief was consuming him until there was nothing left but his shattered heart.

 

“I channel that drive into being a cop,” John told him simply. “I make myself feel better by putting my time and energy towards saving others from experiencing what I went through.”

 

“I can’t, John,” Bane clenched his eyes closed, wishing the tears would stop. “I’m not strong enough.”

 

“It takes time,” John assured him, still remaining close. “You’ve never had a chance to properly grieve. You were arrested right after and you certainly couldn’t show any weakness in prison or with shitty supervisors.” Bane felt a hand on the left side of his jaw and he allowed John to tilt his face until their eyes met, even though Bane was embarrassed and horrified at looking so weak in front of his supervisor. The look of support and resolution on John’s face reminded Bane that this wasn’t his supervisor; John was his friend. “Someday you will find someone or something to care about again,” John promised him. “You’ll treasure it so deeply you’ll let yourself care even if there’s a risk of losing it, and it will leave you feeling fulfilled. But for now let yourself grieve. It’s okay to cry.”

 

For some reason Bane needed the permission, and when John finally told him he could cry Bane couldn’t seem to stop. He held a hand over his own mouth to muffle his sobs but did nothing to stem the flow of tears as they washed his face and tickled his chin before dripping free. His head was throbbing, his hands shaking as he cried for what felt like a lifetime, and John held him together the entire time. Bane mourned the loss of his best friend and sister, and his brother, and the life they all could’ve shared together.

 

Bane only stopped when he gagged on the grief, his body overwrought with emotion and unable to handle more. He coughed a few time, fighting down the vomit, and swiped away any lingering tears with the back of his hand. Bane glanced at the clock and only then realized how much time his story and crying had taken up. Being aware of the time had Bane slumping back against the couch, suddenly exhausted.

 

John was still there, arms wound around him. Bane remained seated where he was, resting a hand lightly on John’s arm just to keep him from leaving. “Breathe,” John murmured and Bane did; deep breaths in and out until his body and mind calmed. And that was when it happened, a rush of _relief_ washing over Bane like a cleansing wave. He actually laughed with it, almost giddy with the sensation of being lighter after finally sharing the story with someone else. John would help carry Bane’s burden, even though Bane hadn’t asked him to.

 

The lull of peace Bane felt was something he hadn’t experienced in over a decade, and it was enough to pull him away into sleep before he could even utter a word of thanks to his friend.


	9. Chapter 9

When Bane woke up he thought he was still dreaming because it was far too similar to his dreams of the hammock swinging lazily in the ocean breeze. Bane was slumped against the back of the couch and the armrest and John was leaning slightly against him as he continued to sleep through the sunlight on their faces. The blanket they kept on the back of the couch was half over both of them, thrown haphazardly by John who had probably been afraid of waking Bane up with any movement.

 

John’s arms were no longer around him, their hands in their respective laps. But Bane could still feel the slight movement of John breathing in and out deeply in sleep, his head resting on Bane’s shoulder. As soon as Bane had enough awareness to remember the night before he felt an ache in his heart, something that would fade with time but would probably never leave him. The sight and sensation of John sleeping next to him was enough to help Bane set aside his grief this time, remembering the promise he had made to John and the kids at the orphanage.

 

He had failed to protect Talia in her time of need. Perhaps John could be Bane’s redemption.

 

A part of Bane wanted to remain on the couch for the rest of the day, warm and relaxed beneath the blanket, but he was scared of an awkward conversation ruining the lingering peace still helping him take in each breath. Bane knew that John had likely made the conscious decision to stay here on the couch with him in case Bane woke up and needed someone there. However, there was a chance that John had just been planning to stay until he was certain Bane was asleep, but had fallen asleep by accident.

 

Bane knew he wouldn’t be able to handle any awkwardness or tension between himself and John right now so he knew the best course of action would be to avoid such a situation from occurring. Carefully Bane pulled away the blanket and stood up, pulling John into his arms. John stirred at the movement and blinked his blurry eyes open. “Bane?”

 

“You’re dreaming,” Bane said with a hushed voice as he carried John back to his bed. “Go back to sleep.” He was pleased to see that by the time he got John settled in bed and wrapped the sheets up around him John had taken his advice, breathing evenly again.

 

Bane was still exhausted as well and rolled into his own bed to sleep more. He had slept through the night quite peacefully on the couch but his storytelling the night before had utterly drained him. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and a loosening in his chest, but it felt like he had had to roll a boulder all the way up and over a mountain to achieve such a feeling. Now was the time for much-needed rest and Bane fell back to sleep easily.

 

He woke up late in the morning to the smell of bacon and eggs and pulled himself out of bed slowly, rubbing away the sleep and dried tears from his face. In the kitchen he found John standing at the stove making enough brunch for two, his right foot barely touching the floor. “You shouldn’t be standing,” Bane chided John tiredly, moving to stand beside him.

 

“I’m fine,” John smacked Bane’s hand with the spatula when he tried to take over the cooking. “Really, it doesn’t even hurt right now. And the food is almost ready anyways. If you insist on helping then you can pour us some juice.”

 

Too groggy to put up much of a fight Bane did as he was told, filling two glasses with juice and setting them on the kitchen table. By then John had pulled out two plates and was beginning to split up the food evenly. Bane grabbed both plates and John grabbed the utensils and together they sat down to brunch. They ate in silence for a while, John looking a little uncertain of what to say and Bane feeling the same way.

 

Eventually Bane told himself to stop being a coward and forced himself to speak. “I wanted to thank you for last night, John,” he said softly.

 

John looked up at him in surprise. “Thank _me_? Bane, thank _you_ for sharing that with me. I saw how painful it was and I can only imagine...” John trailed off and fidgeted with his fork. “It means a lot to me that you were willing to share such a personal story.  You didn’t have to.”

 

“I know,” Bane said. “But I wanted to tell you. You’re the first person to earn my trust since I was arrested and I wanted to thank you for that, and for being so understanding. It’s nice to be reminded that there are still some good, decent people in the world. And I really do feel a bit lighter after telling you the story.” Bane also wanted to thank John for staying with him last night, for not leaving Bane to wake up alone, but he didn’t want to spawn any awkwardness between them.

 

“I’m really glad to hear that,” John smiled softly and then ducked his head shyly. “I really like having you live with me, and I like knowing that I’m not being a terrible supervisor.”

 

“You’re the best supervisor I’ve had,” Bane said. “But what’s more important is that you’ve been a good _friend_.”

 

John smiled a little wider and then weathered his lip, internal conflict obvious in those brown eyes. Finally John met Bane’s gaze. “You can tell me to shut up if this is too soon and you don’t want to talk about it, but what happened to Barsad? Have you really been alone for so long?”

 

Bane swallowed. He hadn’t truly acknowledged that fact – _alone for so long_ – in all his years in prison. It would just be depressing to admit it, and would do nothing to help Bane maintain his stony exterior when keeping himself alive in prison and with his string of horrible supervisors. But it was easier to accept that fact now because Bane was no longer alone. The thought made him feel stronger.

 

“Barsad and I were sent to the same prison at first, and both of us have life sentences,” Bane explained after a moment. “We kept each other safe whenever possible, watching each other’s backs. But I haven’t seen him since the program started up. I wanted out of prison; activity and work is how I shut my brain off and avoid grief.” When he looked up he saw John nodding with understanding; from what Bane had seen, John had a similar method. “But Barsad disappeared into his own head and he refused to go back out into the world. Neither of us would ever be the same after Talia, but he internalized everything more than I did.”

 

“So he’s still in prison,” John surmised.

 

“Unless he’s dead,” Bane forced himself to say even though it made his throat tighten painfully. “It’s hard to say. He’s a small man but Barsad knows how to take care of himself. The danger comes if the grief got to him and he decided to stop fighting.” Bane didn’t want to imagine that happening, but he knew it was a real possibility. “But even if he’s still alive there’s no way to know if he’s in the same prison or if he’s been transferred.”

 

“I could look it up at work,” John offered quietly. “If you want.”

 

Bane felt a flash of excitement and nerves at the thought of seeing Barsad again. He missed his friend and brother terribly; weathering these long years of abuse alone had been horrible. But what if Barsad resented Bane for leaving him alone in prison, for seeking a new life while Barsad was stuck in the past? It could be a joyful reunion or a confirmation that Bane really had no one left in the world. Except... he glanced up at John, who was watching him patiently. He still had someone.

 

“I’d like to look into it, at least,” Bane said. “But maybe not this week,” he added. “I’d like to compose myself first, after our talk last night.”

 

John nodded and swallowed another forkful of egg, reminding Bane that he had to keep eating too. “That works out since I can look it up whenever I go back to work in a week. In the meantime, you suggested a weekend off and I fully agree. Is there anything you feel like doing?”

 

“Nothing in particular,” Bane took another small bite of food, not wanting to waste what John had made for him. “Maybe something outside in the sun.”

 

“You don’t mind carrying me around?” John laughed. “I thought you’d be sick of it by now.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Bane murmured, eyes on his food.

 

“We could go back to the park,” John said. “Or we could go to the zoo or something.”

 

“The zoo.”

 

“Yeah,” John looked embarrassed. “I happen to like the zoo. Though I guess that’s not the best idea since you’d have to carry me everywhere.”

 

Bane smiled at the idea and then felt it waver, remembering the years he had given Talia piggy-back rides everywhere. Every memory was an open wound now, and there was nothing Bane could do except deal with the pain until it slowly faded the same way his back had healed. “Let’s do the park today,” he said. “And save the zoo for when you can walk.”

 

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” John smiled, finishing up his plate of food but remaining at the table while Bane worked on his last few bites. “Actually I had a small request but you’re welcome to say no.” Bane raised an eyebrow to prompt John into continuing. “Before our talk last night I was thinking of inviting my two friends over for a day. But I don’t want to force you to interact with strangers after last night.”

 

“I’m not broken,” Bane huffed.

 

“I didn’t say you were.” There was something about the way John could speak that always managed to soothe Bane. It would be annoying if it didn’t make Bane feel so calm. “I guess I just assumed since normally when I experience an emotional night I hate talking to people afterwards.”

 

Bane sighed, upset with himself for snapping. “No, you’re probably right. I don’t feel like spending time with anyone but you today. But maybe tomorrow.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be this weekend,” John said immediately.

 

“I’ll be fine.” Truthfully Bane wasn’t very happy at the thought of John bringing other friends over. Even though he knew it was foolish of him, Bane feared that John would treat Bane differently in front of his friends, or ignore him entirely. It was selfish of Bane to try to keep John from his friends though, especially since John had known them before Bane. He wanted John to be happy, so he would endure John’s friends.

 

Bane knew he had made the right choice when John grinned. “I’ll give them a call and see when they’re available. Do you mind cleaning up?”

 

“You cooked,” Bane reminded John; whoever didn’t cook always did the dishes afterward.

 

“Alright,” John stood and carefully walked out of the kitchen, keeping most of his weight off his right foot and ankle. Bane grabbed the plates and glasses and was about to turn on the sink when he paused, hearing John on his phone from the bedroom. John was loud enough that Bane heard him asking his friend about availability for the following weekend, not even asking about tomorrow.

 

Bane couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed; instead he was touched by John’s thoughtfulness. He turned the sink on to wash the dishes and when John came back in explaining that they were free for the following weekend, Bane made no comment about overhearing John’s conversation on the phone. Bane merely turned and offered John a small smile, “Sounds good.”

 

#

 

The second week of John’s sick leave was surprisingly normal as it passed them by. They spent all of Saturday afternoon in the sun at the park and stopped by the shoreline on the drive home so Bane could throw rocks into the river to release some remaining pent up energy after his emotional night. On Sunday when the city was drenched by a thunderstorm they spent the afternoon at the orphanage playing board games with the boys.

 

It wasn’t exactly a quiet visit for either of them since Aaron insisted on sitting atop Bane’s shoulders and two other young boys – Jay and Will – sat in Bane’s and John’s laps, hiding from the thunder and lightning. Still, it was the break they needed from the apartment and from the police case files littering every available surface, giving them a chance to clear their heads. It also kept Bane’s thoughts occupied without stressing him out.

 

They spent the week working on cases again, and managed to solve two more minor but lingering cases. There were still four more different case files in John’s bag but there wasn’t much Bane and John could do to solve them from home. They had looked over and discussed the details but the remaining cases would require more police resources once John got back to work at the station.

 

Bane was still proud of their accomplishments, especially when he saw how proud John was each time they either solved a case or found a missing piece of the puzzle and called Gordon to share the news. John always looked lighter after they cleared a case – relaxed, if not carefree – and while Bane wished John didn’t insist on carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, at least Bane could help lighten the load.

 

Bane did end up agonizing over the first case file John had showed him, the one with the serial killer carving unknown symbols into their victims’ skin. Bane found himself always glancing back to the file, flipping through the photos whenever there was a lull in their day. He didn’t know why but the symbols still seemed oddly familiar to him, and he hoped that just staring at them long enough would bring him answers.

 

On the following weekend Bane and John agreed to relax again, though this time they were preparing for John’s friends to visit on Sunday. Over the week John had told Bane a little bit about his two friends who would be visiting. Bruce Wayne Bane knew by name, having heard about the man in the news as the orphaned successor to Wayne Enterprises. He was well known to be a former playboy who had in more recent years reformed to become an intelligent businessman and technology entrepreneur.

 

It surprised Bane at first to hear that Bruce and John were friends; it seemed so improbable that their lives would’ve ever crossed. But John told Bane about how they had met at St. Swithin’s one time when Bruce was visiting, the Wayne family funding many orphanages in Gotham. Even though Bruce was older than John they had ended up talking and found a lot of similarities between them.

 

John told Bane about their shared hatred for injustice, both of them fighting it in their own ways. While John worked as a cop, Bruce used his considerable wealth and position to influence larger policies and developments that his businesses worked with. Even though John and Bruce seemed to be unlikely friends, their relationship made a lot more sense once John told him some of the background information.

 

John continued on by telling Bane about Selina, whom John had met through Bruce. “They’re not officially dating, but you can see it coming,” John divulged to Bane as they made dinner together Saturday night. “They’re a perfect match in terms of intelligence and conversation. You’ll see how they can’t think about anything except riling each other up. But the way they look at each other...” John rolled his eyes and laughed. “You just want to lock them in a closet until they figure it out.”

 

“And yet they don’t see it?” Bane asked, handing over the spices as John asked for them.

 

John shrugged. “Sometimes people don’t see what’s right in front of them.” Bane hummed his agreement and stirred the pasta while John mixed the spices into the tomato sauce. “Anyway, Selina will keep you on your toes. She can be a bit prickly to strangers – lots of trust issues and bravado – but she’s nice once you win her over.”

 

“Any suggestions on that?”

 

“Don’t back down,” John smirked. “She’ll push you to learn your limits and you’ll have to push her right back.”

 

“And what do the three of you have planned?” Bane wondered, grabbing two plates from the cupboard and placing them on the counter.

 

“Oh, you’re welcome to join!” John was quick to offer. “Though don’t feel obligated if you just want to do your own thing for the day. We’re going to play cards for a few hours and then order in some food and watch movies.”

 

“I don’t want to intrude. I assume it’s been at least a month since you’ve visited with them considering the fact that I haven’t seen them or heard about them before now,” Bane said.

 

John waved away his worries and then grabbed the strainer, holding it over the kitchen sink while Bane poured out the pasta into it. “I just wanted to focus on you to make sure you settled in fine and were comfortable. And don’t give me that look!” John spoke over Bane before he could utter a word. “I wanted to.”

 

Bane closed his mouth and focused for a moment on putting the pot down so John could pour the drained pasta back in. Just because John’s ankle was doing better and he was walking around on his own more didn’t mean Bane liked John being on his feet when he didn’t need to be. They got the sauce mixed with the pasta and spooned onto two plates, moving to the kitchen table when they were ready to eat. “How about I meet them and then see how I feel?” Bane offered.

 

“Works for me,” John said. “Though be warned that once you introduce yourself they may be too curious to let you go.”

 

Bane thought John was joking, but when Bruce and Selina visited the next day Bane quickly learned that John was giving a fair warning. Bane was in his room when there was a knock at the door, John insisting on opening the door even though Bane had still sent John a withering look each time he walked around without needing to. Bane listened to an exchange of hellos and hugs and then heard the first question. “So where’s this new roommate we’ve heard so much about?”

 

Bane felt a weird flip-flop in his stomach. He liked being called a roommate instead of a correctee, and he liked knowing that John had talked about Bane to his friends – Bane assumed the comments had been favourable or else Bruce and Selina wouldn’t be here sounding so curious and jovial. Bane was nervous though, wanting the approval of John’s friends but worrying that, despite their open tone, they would not be pleased with their friend living with a life sentence criminal.

 

“He’s just doing some work in his room, he’ll be out soon,” John covered for Bane, giving him time to compose himself and come out when he was comfortable. It was yet another thing on Bane’s quickly-growing list of reasons why he was grateful to John. Of course, John and Bane had agreed that Bane would wear the mask today until his friends agreed it was okay to take it off if they were comfortable, but Bane understood that John had to follow the laws.

 

Bane waited a few more minutes at his desk, straining to hear the continuing conversation even though everyone’s voices got too muffled as they moved further into the living room. A voice in the back of his head told Bane that it would be better if he just stayed out of sight until everyone forgot about him and let John have a much-needed day with his friends. Bane was just starting to agree with this suggestion when he heard footsteps approaching down the hall.

 

He looked up to his doorframe, expecting to see John there, and instead tensed up when he saw a woman he didn’t know. She remained poised in the doorframe for a moment, sizing him up, and then stepped into his bedroom uninvited. Bane watched her carefully but did nothing as she leaned against his desk, looking at Bane for a moment and then studying the room. Bane was relieved and a bit surprised to see that the woman seemed undaunted by Bane’s mask.

 

“John really got the room set up nice for you, didn’t he?” she commented pointedly as she looked at the bed, the dresser, and the laptop by her hip. “You must be something special.”

 

“I didn’t ask him to,” Bane said brusquely, uncomfortable at the implication that John was spending too much money on his correctee.

 

“I never said you did,” the woman brushed a finger along the corner of the closed laptop for a moment and then gave Bane her full attention. “He’s stubbornly caring like that. You’re lucky to have caught his eye. Bane, I presume?”

 

She offered a hand and Bane wasn’t rude enough to deny the courtesy, shaking her hand briefly. “Yes. Though you’re mistaken; I haven’t caught John’s eye. I’m just incredibly lucky.”

 

“He’s good at making people feel like that,” she smiled fondly and Bane felt himself bristle at the thought of sharing John’s kind soul with others. “I’m Selina, by the way,” she finally introduced even though Bane had already assumed. “So tell me Bane, what are you doing in here? Hiding?” Bane made a noise of protest but Selina spoke over him. “I’d understand if that was the case, you know.”

 

Remembering John’s information about his friends, Bane spoke. “Bullshit.”

 

There was a flash of respect and curiosity in Selina’s eyes and then she turned slightly, pulling her long brown hair away to expose her neck. There on the back of her neck Bane could see a tiny string of numbers tattooed into her skin; identical to the one that tarnished Bane’s skin beneath his collar. Selina had been a correctee. “I do understand,” Selina promised him when their eyes met again. “I know what it’s like to have the world see you as lesser because of a ring around your neck, to think ill of you – and _wish ill upon you_ simply because of your past.”

 

“You’re finished though,” Bane pointed out, eyes tracing the bare column of her neck. “You don’t know what it’s like to have this as the rest of your life.”

 

Selina touched a hand to the hollow of her throat where the collar would’ve once rested. “You’re right; I don’t know,” she admitted, voice solemn. “But how bad can it be if you have a guy like John in your life, right?”

 

The way she said it implied that there was much more to the relationship between Bane and John than what they actually shared and Bane felt himself blushing slightly. But Bane still had to admit that Selina had a good point. Even as friends, John was the sort of person that made Bane want to stop running and actually settle down, find a life. Of course Bane wished that Talia had never been killed and that their small family had stayed together and lived a long life. But wishing wouldn’t change the past. And with the hand Bane had been dealt in life, John really did make things seem better.

 

“He’s a good guy,” Bane was willing to admit, controlling his face to avoid giving too much away. It was still hard for Bane to accept that one man could make a lifetime as a correctee seem... not just tolerable but something to _look forward to_.

 

“He is,” Selina agreed. “Which is why I have a few questions for you.” Bane raised an eyebrow, a question and a challenge for her to continue. “I’m assuming you’re in here at least partly because you’re worried that John’s friends will disapprove of you,” Selina said bluntly. “So know that I already like you; I just need you to answer a few questions.”

 

“Alright,” Bane said, because he really didn’t think he had a choice.

 

“Why were you arrested?” Selina jumped right to the point.

 

Bane was tense but forced himself to sit still and not storm away. Selina hadn’t earned the same trust John had; she would not be hearing the full story. But Bane hoped he could still answer her questions to Selina’s satisfaction without every detail. “I killed three people.”

 

She drummed her fingers on the desk, her gaze calculative. “Did they deserve it?”

 

It wasn’t a question Bane was expecting, but he answered it anyway. “Yes.”

 

Bane braced himself for the next wave of questions, demands for details that he would refuse. Instead Selina changed topics. “And what are your thoughts about John – besides him being a good guy?”

 

This time Bane paused for a moment, truly considering his answer and wondering what it was Selina wanted to hear. In the end he chose the truth. “I’ve had a lot of shitty supervisors and John saved my life. I’ll do whatever I can to make him happy.”

 

“Good answer,” Selina smiled. “You pass. And don’t look so stressed,” she patted him on the shoulder and walked back to standing in the doorframe. “Bruce is much easier to impress than I am.” And with that she was gone; back to rejoin the party and leave Bane to join when he was ready.

 

Despite being uncomfortable, the conversation with Selina had actually boosted Bane’s confidence and he stood up almost immediately. Bane forced himself to remain calm as he walked down the hallway and knew he had made the right choice when John gave him a huge smile when he appeared in the living room.

 

The night before Bane had moved the kitchen table out into the corner of the living room for the card game. John was tucked in the back corner with Selina on his left by the window and Bruce across from her on John’s right. After Bane had disappeared into his room that morning John had snuck out a fourth chair and sat it across from his spot, awaiting Bane in case he decided to take part in the game.

 

There was already a deck of cards on the table, and a dusty box of plastic poker chips set in one corner. Without needing to be told Bane took the seat across from John, who was smiling so widely his jaw must’ve been aching. Bane’s attention was drawn to his left though when Bruce, finely dressed even in jeans and a light shirt, offered a hand. Bane shook it and tried not to take it as too serious of a challenge when Bruce’s handshake was tighter than necessary.

 

“Bane, I’m Bruce,” he introduced even though it was certainly unnecessary. “Sorry about whatever interrogation Selina just gave you.”

 

“I don’t need you apologizing on my behalf for things I don’t regret,” Selina scolded Bruce and then turned to John. “And why is he still in his mask? You know Bruce and I don’t mind.”

 

“We just wanted to make sure first. You know the laws,” John explained, looking at Bane apologetically before quickly touching his armband and releasing the clasps on the mask.

 

Bane pulled the mask away and set it aside, quickly feeling self-conscious when Selina started staring at him. “With lips like that?” she said. “It should be against the law to _cover_ those.” Bane cleared his throat and fought the urge to hold a hand over his mouth to avoid any further attention. “Why do you still keep the mask on anyway? People on the street wouldn’t know one way or the other.”

 

“We would’ve stopped by now but Bane is going to start working with me at the station,” John said, staring at Bane even though he was talking to Selina. “Unfortunately they’re sticklers for the laws and Bane couldn’t exactly show up with a head of hair; that would give it away.”

 

Selina sighed. “It’s a shame. I bet you would look quite handsome with some hair,” Selina told Bane and then winked at John. “You have excellent taste.”

 

“I didn’t—” John spluttered, face going red.

 

“Enough of all this,” Bruce cut the conversation short, much to Bane and John’s relief, though Bruce and Selina still looked amused. “On to the real question: are we playing for real money or not? John—”

 

To Bane’s surprise, John’s face got even redder. “I already told you I don’t need handouts,” John rushed to say. Bane understood then. It had been years since Bane had possessed any of his own wealth, but he could still imagine how embarrassed John might be to have money problems when his friend was filthy rich.

 

“You know I don’t mind,” Bruce spoke calmly. Bane knew Bruce probably had no intention of insulting John or making him feel embarrassed, and that he just wanted to help. But that didn’t make the topic any easier to discuss. “It’s not even a handout; if you win then you get the money. That’s the game.”

 

“And if I lose you joke and say we were never _really_ playing for money,” John accused. “You’ve done it before. But we’re honestly fine,” John insisted. “I spoke to the bank and explained the situation and they promised me a loan interest-free for one month until I get my next paycheque.”

 

Bane hated knowing he had put John in such a difficult financial situation, even though John had made his own choices. But this was an opportunity Bane could take advantage of if Bruce was willing to play poker for real money. Bane had nothing to lose and a lot to gain, and he had years of practice from prison when winning and losing held a lot more weight than just a few plastic chips.

 

“We’re playing for real money,” Bane cut into the conversation. “And any money I win goes to John.”

 

“Bane!” John began to protest but Bane silenced him with a look.

 

“On one condition,” Bane added when he saw the conflict and distress in John’s eyes. “You don’t pretend and let me win.”

 

“You talk big,” Selina said, sending him an appraising look.

 

Bane leaned a little closer. “Just wait until you see me in action.”

 

True to his promise, Bane dominated the game. Everyone won a few hands here and there during the few hours they played, making back some of the money they lost. But Bane was the clear winner with a rather cushy count of won money when they finally tallied up the chips they had won and threw all their poker chips into the middle of the table. Bane felt proud that he could use one of his skills to help John out even a little bit; he had calculated that what he won would easily cover the average collection of bills for a month plus a bit extra.

 

The best part was that no one let him win. It was clear to Bane early on that Bruce and Selina were as competitive as John and Bane were. Bane noticed that Bruce often overbid, making more money available for someone to win, but he never gave the money up without a real fight. A few curses and threats were passed around the table during the game, especially when Bane got to repeatedly sweep the pile of chips towards his side of the table.

 

It was all in good fun though, everyone chatting and laughing whenever the room wasn’t silent with tension and concentration. Bane found himself laughing and joking right along with everyone else, thoroughly enjoying his afternoon despite his initial unease at meeting strangers that were so important to John.

 

Bane had been a bit jealous at first since John focused on talking with Selina and Bruce, but once they were all caught up on personal news John paid more attention to Bane. In fact, John paid more attention to Bane than he did to Selina or Bruce, both of whom sent glances back and forth more than once. Bane couldn’t bring himself to mind, feeling himself relax more every time John sent him a smile and included him in on the conversation.

 

Bruce and Selina were good about including Bane as well, trading stories and jokes back and forth as time passed by. Bane learned that Selina used to be a jewel thief before she was arrested – one of the best, she insisted, which Bruce backed up when he admitted they had met when Selina stole a string of pearls from his mansion. She was eventually caught but Bruce pulled some strings and got Selina as his correctee when she chose the program, not wanting her to suffer the same way so many other female correctees did.

 

During the years of her sentence Selina had put her skills to good use by making suggestions to Bruce about how to make his company more secure, both physically and against electronic threats. And now that her sentence was complete she had an official job with Wayne Enterprises. “The first year I just did everything I could to piss him off,” Selina fake-whispered to Bane across the table. “But then I realized that Bruce was actually an alright guy.”

 

“Selina I didn’t know you cared,” Bruce quipped immediately, teasing.

 

Selina levelled him with a look. “Maybe I’m just being nice.”

 

Bruce smirked. “That would be a new trick.”

 

“Truthfully I was bored,” Selina said. “And your security was embarrassing.”

 

“Well aren’t I lucky to have you,” Bruce drawled, though Bane could catch the warmth of true fondness in his eyes.

 

The conversations between Bruce and Selina made Bane remember what John had said about them, and agree with his assumption. They weren’t dating, but it was obvious that there was something between them as they orbited each other. Bane wondered how long it would take for them to finally realize or simply collide, but refused to comment on it when they were still basic strangers to him despite their friendliness.

 

Bane also learned a bit more about Bruce, who told Bane briefly how his parents had been killed when he was young and how Bruce had been trying to find ways to help the people of Gotham from suffering a similar childhood. There was only so much each individual person could do, but Bruce’s wealth and influence certainly helped him have more sway on the city’s laws and policies than most.

 

It was interesting for Bane to hear that there were actually some people who disapproved of and were fully disgusted by the criminal correction program. Based on the years of abuse Bane had received from supervisors happy for the free labour, Bane had assumed that anyone who wasn’t a correctee loved the program. But seeing at least John and Bruce hate the program, their motivation for getting a correctee only to break the cycle of abuse, gave Bane hope.

 

During the afternoon it was easy for Bane to forget that he was a correctee at all because no one treated him like one. Bane had nervously worried that John would treat Bane more formally with others over at the apartment but nothing changed. To John, and to John’s friends, Bane was a roommate and a friend. His collar might as well have not existed; Bane barely even felt the weight and rub of it all afternoon.

 

Eventually everyone besides Bane got tired of losing money so the card game drew to a close, everyone counting out the chips and then packing the cards and chips away. Selina pulled out her wallet and handed over the $47 she owed Bruce, and Bane told Bruce to subtract John’s losses from Bane’s winnings. When they did the calculations it was determined that Bruce owed Bane a little under $3000.

 

“We can’t accept that,” John said immediately.

 

“My winnings,” Bane reminded him. “And I can most certainly accept that.”

 

“Bane!” John grumbled. “It’s not right.”

 

“Of course it is,” Bruce argued. “We made a deal and we played fairly. He earned the money and he’s welcome to do with it as he pleases.” Technically that wasn’t true; the contract made it clear that all of a correctee’s money and possessions belonged to their supervisor. But it was a point not worth discussing since John wouldn’t enforce the rule and Bane was planning to hand over the money anyway to cover the expenses Bane’s arrival had brought upon John. “I actually brought some money with me in case we played for real money.”

 

“Of course you did,” John sighed, apparently giving up this particular fight. “Well you deal with that and I’ll order in some food. We agreed on Chinese?”

 

Everyone nodded their approval and John moved to the kitchen to grab the take-out menus he kept in one of the cupboards with Selina following him for any final input. Bane and Bruce had already made their orders on what they wanted so Bane followed Bruce towards the coat rack by the front door when Bruce beckoned him. Bane tried to not act too surprised when Bruce pulled out what must’ve been almost $5000 from the inner pocket of his jacket; far more money than Bane had ever held in his hand at once.

 

Bruce quietly counted out the right amount and pushed the bills into Bane’s hands. Bane had been counting too and he held his hands out, refusing to take the money. “That’s too much.” It was only an extra $150 to make it an even $3000 but still, fair was fair.

 

“John is going to insist on paying for dinner,” Bruce explained, “And I’m going to let him. But I want you to slip this extra money into his wallet in little amounts whenever you can.”

 

“I guess you’ve never witnessed the paranoia of cops before,” Bane said, chiding lightly.

 

“Oh I have, and I know how John can be,” Bruce said. “But I can also see how much he likes and trusts you, so I’m hoping you’ll find a way. He’s a good man and I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that,” Bruce gave Bane a tiny smile. “But I’m really impressed by your selflessness for him despite what abuses you must’ve experienced before you found John, and I’m glad he has someone like you looking out for him.”

 

“I haven’t always been the best,” Bane felt obligated to admit, unable to handle so much praise without his guilt kicking in from when he had attacked John. The attack was in the past, luckily, but Bane still regretted it.

 

“Well John is extremely protective of the people close to him,” Bruce said. “If he didn’t think you could be trusted then he wouldn’t have invited me and Selina over. So even if you made a mistake in the past...” Bruce’s gaze was still warning and serious, a threat behind his understanding words, “You must be doing something right now.”

 

“I hope so,” Bane was willing to allow some of his nervousness to seep into his voice.

 

Bruce gave him a light pat on the shoulder. “If it means anything, I approve of you.”

 

It meant a lot and Bane felt himself relax slightly. “Thanks.”

 

Bruce nodded and then glanced back towards the kitchen where they could hear John on the phone. “How about we intervene before John tries to buy out the whole restaurant in an attempt to repay me?”

 

It was a good suggestion since by the time Bane and Bruce stepped into the kitchen it sounded like John had ordered half of the items on the menu. Selina was standing nearby, looking more amused than concerned. What caught Bane’s eye was the way John was leaning most of his weight against the counter, avoiding putting weight on his ankle while trying to make sure it wasn’t obvious.

 

Bane fought the instinct to pick John up and carry him away, worried that he would embarrass John in front of his friends or do something Bruce and Selina wouldn’t approve of. Bane ended up lingering a little too close to John, barely fighting off the instinct. John glanced over at him and could somehow read Bane’s worry on his face, giving him a reassuring smile. To Bane’s surprise John subtly shifted his weight, resting a hand and his weight on Bane instead of the counter.

 

Bane leaned a little closer, enjoying the way his heart was thrumming with extra energy all of a sudden. “Are you ordering for an army?”

 

John glanced over and blushed. “That’s all, thanks,” he said into the phone, finally finishing the order. John gave his address and hung up, looking around at the rest of them a little sheepishly. “We should go down to the lobby in about fifteen minutes to pay.”

 

“You sure they can make all of that in fifteen minutes?” Selina raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’m sure they’ll manage, and it’s not like I ordered _that_ much!” Everyone gave him a look. “There is nothing wrong with leftovers,” John defended. “Let’s just get the table set up.”

 

The teasing continued but everyone followed the suggestion, Bruce and Selina heading back out into the living room to clean off the table while Bane and John remained in the kitchen to pull out some plates and glasses. “You shouldn’t move around more than necessary,” Bane scolded quietly when they were alone.

 

“I’m fine, I promise,” John said. “My ankle is just a bit tired.”

 

“Then let it rest,” Bane pressed. “Just because you’re going back to work tomorrow doesn’t mean your ankle is perfect yet. It could still benefit from you staying off it when you can.”

 

“It doesn’t really matter,” John argued. “Gordon won’t let me go back on active duty for another two weeks anyway. Besides, it’s not like you want to carry me around everywhere.”

 

Nerves choked Bane but the words somehow tumbled out anyway. “I like it.” John paused and looked at him, studying him for a long moment. Bane did his best not to fidget under the attention, terrified that he had said or implied too much. “I mean, I don’t _mind_.”

 

There was something about John’s smile that immediately calmed Bane, helping him breathe normally. Then John was wrapping his arms around Bane’s neck and hugging him close and Bane didn’t know what he had done to deserve it but he hugged John back tightly. He lost all track of time, not knowing if he was hugging John for seconds or hours, but they were interrupted by Selina popping her head into the kitchen. “What’s taking so long with those plates—Oh. Nevermind!”

 

By then the moment was ruined, John jumping back away from Bane and leaning on the counter. “No, Selina, it’s not—!”

 

“Take your time!” she spoke over him and slipped back out into the living room.

 

John cursed under his breath and Bane felt a sinking feeling in his stomach; it hurt to know John regretted the hug. “I’m sorry,” Bane forced himself to say even though he really wasn’t sorry.

 

“It’s fine,” John laughed and rubbed his face. “I hugged _you_ , remember? It’s just that Selina has been hounding me trying to get me to date and I don’t want her getting started again.”

 

Bane swallowed the growl that tried to crawl up his throat. He knew he had to share John; it wouldn’t be fair for Bane to steal him away from everyone else. But while Bane could tolerate and even enjoy the thought of sharing John with his friends, Bane was entirely displeased at the thought of John having a significant other in his life. Bane would no doubt fall by the wayside. He wondered if there was any way he could deter Selina from pushing the dating idea without sounding too controlling or weird.

 

“Let’s just get going,” John said when Bane didn’t speak up, grabbing a stack of plates from the cupboard.

 

Bane had no choice but to follow, grabbing four glasses and following John out to set them on the table. Selina and Bruce both glanced between them when John and Bane joined them in the living room but Selina said nothing and the topic passed. As Bruce had predicted it was John who insisted on going down to the lobby and paying. No one put up a fuss since they knew it was pointless; though Bruce did insist on going down to help collect their hoard of food.

 

Bane was left alone in the apartment with Selina and even though Bane had enjoyed the afternoon he had spent with Selina and the conversations they had shared, Bane felt distinctly uncomfortable after the hug. He wanted to bring up the hug and the topic of dating to persuade Selina away from her mission, but didn’t know the right way to word it. Luckily Selina was pretty blunt. “Do you like him?”

 

Immediately Bane regretted his wish to discuss this topic. All he could think about was how long they had before Bruce and John got back with the food, and what John would think if he walked in on this conversation. All on top of the fact that Bane didn’t even know _what_ he was feeling right now other than a jumble of messy emotions he had little familiarity with. “I—”

 

“Because he’s the kindest, most caring and brave man I know and he deserves only the best,” Selina said.

 

Bane felt his heart clench sadly. “I know.”

 

“ _Which is why_ ,” Selina continued, emphasizing her words to recapture Bane’s attention, “I wouldn’t be opposed if you liked him. I see the way you look at him, and protect him. You treat him like a treasure but not like glass; I like that.”

 

“I— We’re just friends,” Bane said, feeling a little dizzy. “And in the end I’m just a correctee.”

 

“He doesn’t see you like that,” Selina chided him. “None of us do. You can’t hide behind that excuse.”

 

Bane didn’t know what to say but it didn’t matter. John pushed the door open with one hand holding a bag of food cartons, Bruce right behind with both hands full. “Bring on the army, we got the food,” Bruce joked as he nudged the door closed behind them.

 

“I’m willing to make the sacrifice and eat extra,” Selina joked, easily dropping the conversation of feelings Bane wasn’t ready to think about. Bane found himself standing stiffly by the table for an extra moment, still uncomfortable, but then the food was being placed on the table and John touched his elbow in slight concern at his silence and the world was alright again.

 

Conversation switched to less personal topics as everyone sat down at the table, this time with John sitting beside Bane and Selina beside Bruce. John, Selina and Bruce all discussed their jobs and Bane talked about what he was looking forward to about working with the police. John and Bane also shared the announcement of the cases they had worked on solving the last two weeks, John explaining that they would probably be working on more cases until Gordon approved him for active duty.

 

They also discussed the news and politics, and all of their opinions on the criminal correction program. In an ideal world it would’ve been a wonderful program with many opportunities for former criminals and the society at large. But that had quickly fallen apart as soon as money and profit became involved. Everyone discussed a few of their experiences with the program in different situations, discussing their widespread frustration. Bane was still unwilling to divulge any details about his previous supervisors, or his life before the program, but no one pushed him.

 

There were still cartons full of food even when all four of them were too full to eat another bite and they spent a few minutes splitting up the leftovers so John and Bane could keep some and send the rest home with Bruce and Selina. After that Bruce and Selina kicked them out of the kitchen, arguing that since John had paid for dinner they were going to do the dishes. John and Bane were banished to the couch to sift through the collection of DVDs Bruce had brought over for them to watch.

 

John had sat down with a bit of distance between them and Bane shuffled closer, using the excuse of leaning over to look at the DVD cases. When they picked a movie Bane put the disc in the player and was pleased to see that John had moved to sit fully against the armrest, leaving the rest of the couch free. It was at that time when Selina and Bruce were finishing up the plates and Bane tried to not make it too obvious as he rushed over to the couch to slot his body against John’s side.

 

John seemed unperturbed, making no move to squirm away from Bane. “Grab the scotch from the counter!” he called to his friends, nonchalant like he and Bane sat this close together all the time. It was such a change from their night on the couch after Bane had grabbed the knife; they had come so far since then.

 

Bruce brought out four glasses and Selina carried the scotch. The couch was just large enough to fit all four of them, though it was tight. Bane lifted his left arm to sling it along the back of the couch and give himself a few extra inches of space, and found himself thoroughly distracted whenever John’s head nudged his inner arm each time John took a long drink or simply rested his head back against the couch.

 

The first movie passed with liberal drinking and loud commentary; Bane could barely tell what was going on in the movie since he couldn’t hear most of the dialogue. He didn’t mind; he was having more fun laughing and joking with John’s friends, feeling like a welcome member of the group. During the second movie they lidded the scotch and sipped water instead, Bruce and Selina planning to drive home and needing to sober up.

 

Bane had been a little greedy with the alcohol since he didn’t have to sober up to drive home. His head felt a little fuzzy, the world swaying beneath him if he tilted his head too quickly. Bane liked it though, especially with John also a little tipsy beside him. They would catch each other’s eye frequently and laugh – sometimes at nothing – and once in a while Bane would lean a little closer just to smell John’s conditioner.

 

The effects didn’t last long but Bane enjoyed them while they did. He forced himself to back off slightly and give John more space when it was clear everyone was sobering up by the end of the second movie, but Bane knew he would be able to recall the warm fuzzy memories whenever he desired. The best part was that John still remained close to Bane even when they stopped the movie and stood up from the couch, seeing Bruce and Selina to the door.

 

Bruce and Selina both gave Bane their numbers for his phone and insisted that they get together again soon now that Bane was settled and they were all acquainted. “Next month at my place,” Bruce told them, leaving no room for argument as he and Selina said their goodnights and exited into the hallway.

 

John must’ve still been a little tipsy because as soon as the door closed and they were alone Bane felt John’s arms winding around his neck again. Bane felt a little breathless as he wrapped his own arms around John to hold the small of his back, enveloping John in his embrace. “You were amazing tonight. They loved you,” John pressed his face into the crook of Bane’s neck.

 

Bane could feel John nudging his collar and worried it would be uncomfortable or that it would break the moment but it didn’t. John just continued to hug Bane close. “I liked them too,” Bane said quietly, relishing in John’s proximity. “And I’m really glad you didn’t treat me any differently when they were over.”

 

John chuckled softly and tightened his hold, fingers clutching at Bane’s shirt. “Of course not, and I hope you know that I’d never lie,” John’s voice turned a little more serious. “If I’m angry with you then you’ll know. Just like when you attacked me that night. I wasn’t okay and I wasn’t going to pretend I was.” Bane wanted to pull away at the mention of that night but John held him in place. Bane shivered when John rubbed his thumb in a small circle around the top knob of Bane’s spine, soothing him.

 

“I’m so sorry for that night,” Bane whispered again, his heart aching at the mere memory. “It was the last thing you deserved after everything you’ve done for me.”

 

“I thought we agreed to move on from that,” John teased until he skimmed a hand over Bane’s shoulder, feeling the tension in his limbs. “Bane,” John leaned back just enough to catch Bane’s eyes. “I forgive you. Move on with me.”

 

Without Bane’s approval his eyes slipped down from John’s eyes to his lips before he managed to force them back up, meeting John’s gaze. He could feel a tingle in his own lips, like his nerves were sparking to life to match his imagination. Bane ignored this and focused on John’s words. He had been forgiven. Bane released a heavy, relieving sigh. “Alright.”

 

“Good,” John smiled and offered one last hug that didn’t last nearly long enough before he was pulling away fully. Bane wanted to hold him close again, maybe for the rest of the night, but restrained himself as John yawned. “Well I think it’s bedtime for me. You should rest too; Gordon is going to want to talk with you before you start work officially tomorrow. Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight,” Bane said in return, watching as John stretched and finally wandered down the hallway towards his bedroom.


	10. Chapter 10

Bane was seated at their kitchen table in the corner of the living room; they hadn’t bothered moving it back to the kitchen after Bruce and Selina left. It was dark in the living room and quiet, the hour late. Bane glanced over the surface of the table, taking in the scattered cards and poker chips, but was distracted when he heard footsteps padding towards him. Bane didn’t look behind him but also didn’t flinch when a hand touched his shoulder.

 

John slid into view with a soft smile a moment before he crawled into Bane’s lap, sitting on his thighs and holding Bane’s shoulders for balance. Bane held John’s hips to keep him close and to save him from falling. John skimmed his fingers along Bane’s bare jaw, the mask forgotten before bed, and Bane shivered and willingly leaned into the touch.

 

“I liked the way you touched me tonight,” John confessed, looking at Bane through his lashes. “I liked having your body pressed against mine.” Deciding that John’s words were enough permission, Bane leaned in to finally taste those lips but was stilled by the press of fingers to his own lips. “Shhh,” John soothed. “Let’s save that for reality.”

 

“Huh?” Bane pressed his thumb to John’s lips in return, feeling the tempting quiver of them at his touch.

 

“Now’s the time when you should put me on the table,” John hinted, lips smiling beneath the indentation of Bane’s thumb.

 

Bane stood fluidly, lifting John with him and carefully laying John down on the smooth surface of the table after sweeping away the cards and poker chips. During the move their clothes faded away, leaving their bare skin to brush. Standing between John’s legs Bane ran his hands along John’s thighs, feeling short hairs and warm skin.

 

 _You treat him like a treasure_. Bane caressed John’s inner thighs and smiled fondly when John trembled. _But not like glass_. Bane hooked his hands under John’s knees and lifted his legs, winding them around his waist and holding them there as he pressed in. John’s body took him in easily, eager and willing. Bane didn’t hesitate before beginning to thrust in possessively, groaning loudly each time John clenched around him.

 

Beneath him John threw his head back and moaned, his body on display for Bane’s viewing pleasure. This was what Bane wanted, what the tension inside him had been building towards every time John massaged Bane’s back or touched him or hugged him. The way Bane’s cock sunk into John’s body, and the way John’s hole stretched to accommodate him. It all felt so perfect as stars danced behind Bane’s eyes.

 

He heard an alarm go off a long distance away and tensed, but John leaned up and held the back of Bane’s neck with his palm. John dragged Bane’s attention back down and bucked up to take him deeper, eyes dark and needy. “Don’t leave me,” John whined. “Not yet.”

 

“I’ll never leave you,” Bane rushed to promise. He leaned forward quickly, uncaring of John’s earlier suggestion, but right before their lips met the world turned to dust around him and faded away. In the next moment Bane blinked his eyes open and saw that he was sprawled out on his stomach in his own bed – alone – with his alarm clock blaring beside him. Bane flicked the alarm off and with his movement he felt his cock straining against the mattress, his boxers damp and sticky. “Fuck.”

 

“Bane, are you up?” John’s voice carried through Bane’s closed bedroom door.

 

John’s voice was so similar to the dream that Bane felt another spark of arousal in his groin. “I’m awake,” he called out.

 

“Do you want to shower first or can I?” John asked, not seeming to pick up on how strained Bane’s voice was, or perhaps chalking it up to Bane not being used to waking up early for work after so long without working since John had brought him home.

 

Bane couldn’t help it; even though John wasn’t saying anything sexy just his voice was enough to have Bane’s hips rutting against the mattress again. He choked down his moan and struggled for control. “You first.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

As soon as John turned on the shower spray and Bane knew his noises would be drowned out Bane flipped onto his back and shoved his boxers down just enough to wrap a fist around his throbbing cock. After that it only took a few quick strokes and the thought that John was naked and cascaded by water just on the other side of the wall for Bane to groan loudly and dig his heels into the mattress. He caught all of his seed in his palm but his boxers were still ruined, sticking to him as Bane peeled them off.

 

Even though it had just been a dream and a morning hand job Bane found himself winded from the experience. He remained sprawled in bed and panting until he heard the shower turning off and knew it was his turn. It was easy to throw his soiled boxers in the hamper and wipe his hand clean with a tissue. What was more difficult was trying to push the dream from his memories, each touch and sound as memorable as if Bane had truly fucked John on the table last night.

 

It left Bane tense around John as they both got ready for work, eating breakfast and getting Bane’s mask put back on, and headed to the car. John noticed but assumed it was nerves, patting Bane’s arm reassuringly as they got into the car. “You’ll be fine,” John said. “Gordon wouldn’t have let you work on the cases these last two weeks if he didn’t trust you; he just wants to talk to you.”

 

Bane forced a smile but didn’t immediately turn on the engine of the car, breathing deeply. John’s touch had always been comforting to him, paired with the soothing memories of John massaging ointment into his injured back and wrists, but the dream had now turned John’s touch electric. The simple pat of reassurance brought the dream back full force, and Bane knew he couldn’t drive safely with the mental image of John gasping under him.

 

It wasn’t that Bane wanted the dream to fade – he desperately wanted to clutch at it and never let it go, knowing it was probably the closest he’d ever get. But he needed to focus, get John to work safely and impress his boss enough to earn a full position with the police. Bane needed a job in general but getting to work with John would be ideal and he didn't want to screw up his chance.

 

“Are you alright?” John asked, sounding worried now. John reached forward to touch Bane’s arm again but Bane pulled his arm away, starting the car. “I can drive if you’d prefer,” John offered. Now John sounded a little spurned but was clearly trying to hide it.

 

Bane wanted to reach over and touch John’s arm in return to offer some comfort, or hug John close the way they had in the alcove by the door the night before. Bane also wanted to climb across the car and pin John to the seat while finally tasting those lips. Uncertain of his restraint, it was simply easier to avoid all physical contact until he got himself under control. “I’m fine. Don’t worry,” Bane promised and pulled out of the parking spot.

 

The drive to the police station was quiet and a little tense, made worse each time Bane glanced over at John out of the corner of his eye when he felt a mix of guilt and arousal. Thankfully once they were parked at the station Bane got properly distracted by his nerves, his dream momentarily fading to the back of his mind.

 

He moved around to the side of the car automatically but hesitated when he saw John climbing out on his own. John sent him a small smile. “While I haven’t exactly minded you carrying me around the apartment, I think it would be better if I walked on my own at work,” John explained, looking a little worried.

 

Bane knew it was for the best but he still felt cheated. He didn’t bother smiling since he knew his fake smile wasn’t large enough to work past the mask. Instead he just nodded and let John lead the way to the elevator, knowing he would be meeting with Commissioner Gordon right away. John had an early shift on Monday so the building was still relatively quiet, many people not yet in for the day. They took the elevator up to the sixth floor, the top floor of the building, and traveled down a near-deserted corridor.

 

At a heavy-looking wooden door John knocked and stood patiently, Bane at his side. In the early morning light spilling in through the windows down the hall the gold lettering on the door gleamed. _Commissioner James Gordon._ “Come in.”

 

John pushed the door open and Bane followed behind him into the surprisingly small office. It wasn’t that the office was physically small in how it had been built, but it was so full of books and boxes of case files that Bane struggled to properly step into the room. “Morning, Commissioner,” John greeted as he sat down in the further chair, leaving the one closest to the door available for Bane.

 

“Good morning,” Bane offered gruffly, not wanting to start this meeting off on the wrong note since he had no idea how ‘official’ this interview was for the Commissioner.

 

Gordon didn’t respond at first, briefly engrossed in whatever case file he had open on his desk. When he seemed satisfied Gordon glanced up at them over the stacks of files, smiling lightly. “Good to see you back, Officer Blake,” Gordon said and then turned to Bane. “And you, Mister...”

 

“Just Bane,” Bane said.

 

“I noticed on your contract when I oversaw John collecting you from Mister Innas,” Gordon admitted. There was something about the way Gordon looked at Bane that made him feel studied but not feel threatened by it. Gordon just seemed too curious for his own good, reminding Bane of John when he thought about it. “Odd name.”

 

“You can thank one of my previous supervisors,” Bane supplied without energy, not really keen on talking about his past with the Commissioner. If John asked then Bane might be willing to disclose more information, but even though it wasn’t as painful as his memories of Talia and Barsad, the topic of his previous supervisors was not a pleasant one. “I was the bane of her existence.”

 

“And you kept the name?” Gordon’s lips quirked up in amusement.

 

Bane noticed John watching Bane with curiosity and slight concern, perhaps realizing that Bane was probably uncomfortable with the topic. “It stuck,” Bane said simply, trying to smile in return even though he knew the mask made the effort mostly ineffective. What Bane didn’t divulge, what he buried deep down was the truth that when Minnie – his supervisor before Nate – had started calling him Bane, he had started to believe her. Only John had made Bane begin to believe otherwise.

 

Gordon sat back in his chair and brushed his hand over his moustache, looking a little sheepish now. “Apologies, Bane. I mean no harm; I just have a natural tendency to be nosy.” Gordon chuckled and absentmindedly flipped closed the case file on his desk. “But today we’re here to discuss employment. You want to work with the police? It’s not an easy job and I can’t imagine many correctees being happy working with law enforcement.”

 

Bane felt defensive until he noticed how relaxed Gordon was in his chair, leaning back and giving Bane his full attention without looking anxious or wary. “I’d like the opportunity to work with John more,” Bane admitted, purposefully not looking over to read John’s expression. “And I’ve been enjoying working on the cases with him the last two weeks.”

 

“Speaking of,” Gordon glanced back at John who unzipped his shoulder bag and handed over three tabbed files – the three cases Bane and John had found solid leads on. “We’ve done some work based on the leads you gave us but now I’ll need to actually review the files. We’ll get the cases assigned once I’ve reviewed everything.”

 

“Shouldn’t John continue working on the files?” Bane asked before he remembered about the hierarchy of this job. And even when he remembered he found he didn’t care.

 

Gordon looked surprised but not angry. “Although I am extremely impressed by the work you two put into the cases, it is unrealistic to pile every case onto John’s shoulders. It’s my job to delegate tasks evenly among the station.”

 

“But John will get credit,” Bane pressed.

 

“Bane!” John hissed, cheeks red when Bane glanced over. “I didn’t do it for the credit.”

 

Bane felt a little foolish and naive until he saw Gordon’s proud look lingering on John. “His name will be in the case files – as will yours,” Gordon reminded Bane. “Your names will likely not be in large print on the final report when we get these cases closed,” the Commissioner was willing to acknowledge. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t keep track of everyone’s efforts personally while I oversee things.”

 

“I just want to make sure he gets the credit he deserves,” Bane said, somehow unable to stop his words. “John would make an incredible detective.”

 

By now John’s face was bright red, though his smile was affectionate and thankful despite his bashfulness. Gordon didn’t hand John a promotion then and there, but Bane thought the Commissioner’s thoughtful gaze was a positive one. As were his words when he spoke up, “Which is why I would like the two of you to use these next two weeks in order to work on the other pending files I sent you home with. I’m extremely impressed by what you two have accomplished together in such a short time and we could use your abilities to crack open a few more cold cases.”

 

“With all due respect, Commissioner,” John began, “is there any chance I could begin active duty sooner?”

 

“You’re lucky I’m only holding off another two weeks, Blake,” Gordon said. “And don’t doubt that I will extend that if the doctor prescribes more rest for your ankle.” John opened his mouth to protest again but Gordon talked over him, his voice kind but firm. “Must I remind you that it is not just your safety I am considering but also the safety of Bane?” All at once the flush in John’s cheeks drained away, leaving John pale as he glanced to Bane with wide eyes.

 

“If I get myself killed... you die too,” John whispered to Bane even though it wasn’t a secret. Horror was in John’s eyes. It was a fact John really shouldn’t have forgotten since becoming a supervisor but with how respectfully John treated Bane it had never really been an issue.

 

“Which is also something you need to consider as well, Bane,” Gordon reminded him, though Bane had already thought this through.

 

“Maybe I shouldn’t go on patrols anymore,” John fretted, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from Bane’s own. “It’s not fair to you that I risk your life alongside my own. I never even thought—”

 

“I have,” Bane cut him off, lulling John before he could work himself into a frenzy. “I’ve thought about it a lot, especially when you first brought me to the apartment and I found out you were a cop. I worried you would get yourself killed and take me with you. You’re a little impulsive,” he accused, though fondly. John finally dropped his gaze, embarrassed. “But I’ve gotten to know you and I want to help you fight your fight, and protect you.”

 

“Bane, you don’t have to—”

 

“I want to,” Bane insisted. In his chest he could feel a subtle shift, the adrenaline of his arousal melting into a softer swell of adoration.

 

Silence rang in the room and only then did Bane realize how personal the conversation had become, and that they had spoken like this in front of Gordon. It was one thing for Bane to wrestle with these thoughts and emotions in his head, or even in private conversation with John; it was another to spill everything on the Commissioner’s already-swamped desk. Gordon didn’t seem particularly uncomfortable, though he did clear his throat when no one said anything more.

 

“Well since that’s settled I’ll let you two get to work. Bane, you will be starting off with our base salary that all new rookies receive and then as you progress we can renegotiate.” Bane nodded, not willing to argue about money right now as long as it was enough to support John. And judging by the slight widening of John’s eyes, it would be plenty of extra monetary support. “Unfortunately I will not be able to issue you a gun with your current status, so you’ll have to stick close to Blake when on patrol. Blake, you can get Bane set up at any of the empty desks around you. And I’d like to also see that file regarding the symbol carvings to look over.”

 

“Actually would we be able to work on it for a little longer?” Bane requested quickly.

 

John paused halfway through pulling out the case file from his bag, looking from Bane to Gordon for a decision. Gordon pursed his lips. “Do you have a particular reason for the request?”

 

“The symbols seem familiar to me,” Bane said. “I’m hoping if I stare at them longer it might jog my memory.”

 

Gordon rubbed his chin in thought and looked around his desk, perhaps realizing how many other files he had to look over already. He nodded. “Alright, I’ll give the two of you until Officer Blake is ready for active duty to work on the file. After that it will be reassigned for a new perspective.”

 

“Thanks, Commissioner,” John said, putting the file back and zipping up his bag securely. When John stood Bane followed the hint and stood as well, holding the door open. “Thank you for everything.”

 

“Thank you,” Bane echoed, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door after John stepped out with him, both of them dismissed.

 

They took the elevator back down to John’s floor. They were both quiet but Bane caught John glancing at him in the reflective metal of the elevator doors. Neither of them spoke until they reached the room full of desks, John’s desk alone against the far wall. “You can pick anywhere,” John said, hovering at Bane’s side for a moment before moving over to sit at his own desk.

 

Bane looked at his options – specifically the empty desks closest to John. The desk parallel to John’s desk in the next row seemed like a good option but there was too much of a gap between them for Bane’s tastes. Instead he took the desk behind John where he could always keep him in sight and was as close as he could get. “How’s this?” he asked when John didn’t immediately turn.

 

John remained busy pulling out the case files for a moment and then swivelled his chair, sitting on the opposite side of Bane’s desk. The sides of each desk were solid for the drawers, but the centre was open for the sitter’s legs. When John sat opposite Bane their feet bumped under the desk, and for some reason that made Bane stupidly happy.

 

“Looks good,” John said and then pushed a file into Bane’s hands. “Here’s the symbols case for you to look over. I figure we can just follow the same sort of routine we had at the apartment.”

 

Before Bane could answer one way or the other John sent him a fake smile and rolled his chair back to his own desk, leaving Bane to work alone and in silence. Bane wanted to say something or call John back but worried it would be out of place. John’s withdrawal pained him but he had no one to blame but himself; John was only taking his cues from Bane, who had withdrawn first. There was also a possibility that Bane was just being foolish with his head full of emotions and reading too much into things; John was a workaholic and it wouldn’t be unexpected for him to become more subdued and professional at work.

 

Bane forced himself to act professional as well and to respect John’s behaviour. After all, this was his job now too and he wanted to make a good impression, both for himself and on behalf of John. He spent over an hour without speaking a word, going through the file again even though nothing more than that niggling familiarity came to him when he looked at the symbols.

 

Their ‘routine’ at the apartment was to spend some time alone reading through the information and then come together to discuss their thoughts. But as one hour slipped into two and then three, the other desks in the room slowly filling up, John kept his back turned to Bane. The view wasn’t bad – Bane found himself occasionally distracted by the lines and valleys of John’s shoulder blades beneath his pressed shirt – but it also felt to Bane like he was going through withdrawal.

 

He didn’t know what to say though, so he remained silent and tried not to look too pathetically hopeful when John finally swivelled his chair and sat on the opposite side of Bane’s desk again. John’s bottom lip was a little swollen from where he must’ve been chewing at it. That was distracting but Bane focused when he noticed how downcast John’s eyes were, dull and a little sad. And Bane had a sneaking suspicion that he had caused that sadness.

 

“Bane...” John didn’t quite meet Bane’s eye. “Fuck, I sound like a preteen but did I do something wrong?”

 

“No, not at all,” Bane rushed to say, reaching across the desk to touch John’s wrist where he could reach before he really thought about what he was doing. However, despite the potential inappropriateness for the office John relaxed slightly rather than looking uncomfortable. “I was just nervous,” Bane lied because he really couldn’t tell John that he kept thinking about how fucking John on the office desk wouldn’t be all that different from fucking him on the kitchen table. Bane wanted to reassure John, ignoring the way his body ached with his longing to gather John up in his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

Immediately John’s shoulders dropped, his smile genuine. “I’m glad. I worried that maybe last night—”

 

“I really enjoyed last night,” Bane said before John could worry any further, honest even though he didn’t admit exactly which parts of the evening had been his favourite.

 

John’s smile turned softer. “I feel the same.”

 

That was when Bane allowed himself to hope and believe that even though they had only been at odds for a few hours, John had missed Bane’s presence as well. Bane took a deep breath to centre himself. He had to control these desires. It wasn’t fair for him to expect more from John; he had already done so much for Bane. John had singlehandedly gotten Bane away from Nate and the whip and had taken care of him while he healed. He had given Bane a home, a new small but kind group of friends, and a companion in himself.

 

Bane was unwilling to lose any of that simply because it had been too long since he had had sex. Bane would control his desires as much as possible – ignoring them when he could and indulging in his hand when necessary – and he wouldn’t let them taint what he had with John. Because he would rather have John as a friend and companion instead of pushing for more and losing the life Bane had begun to hesitantly build in the apartment.

 

Greedily Bane swirled his thumb against the knob of John’s wrist and then slowly pulled back. He didn’t want John to feel like he was withdrawing again though so Bane moved his foot forward slightly so that his foot was nudging against John’s under the desk as their eyes met. “So,” Bane cleared his throat, practicing his determined nonchalance. “Any luck with the files?”

 

“Possibly,” John smiled wider. “But I’d like to hear your thoughts.”

 

“Anything for you,” Bane said, perhaps too sincere with his tone but just happy to have their routine back. John didn’t comment on the earnestness of his voice and simply grabbed one of the case files, sharing Bane’s desk as they began to work together.


	11. Chapter 11

Two weeks passed before John was allowed to test for active duty, and despite John’s light complaining over the dinner table, the time passed quickly. John finally accepted the money Bane had won and cleared his loan with the bank, relieving them both of some stress. Bane found it particularly amusing because John was antsy to get out and physically do something but it was clear that he also enjoyed going through the files and working through any possible leads by discussing with Bane. John didn’t even know what to complain about once he settled back in at work, enjoying both aspects of the job.

 

John was going to be a good detective; Bane could tell.

 

Bane wasn’t sure which he would prefer, working in the office or being on patrol. He felt his body grow a little stiff and anxious for movement like John but in the evenings Bane and John exercised at the gym together, meeting their activity quota while not on patrol. The days in the office had a tendency to drag on, the drone of murmured voices, ringing phones and shuffling papers filling the office space. But Bane couldn’t deny that it was relaxing knowing John wasn’t in danger on the streets, and he was just content spending his time with John no matter what.

 

Some nights Bane managed to sleep through the night without dreaming, but a few times a week Bane would inevitably wake up with sticky boxers as he rutted against the mattress. He became well-acquainted with his hand, and while he guiltily allowed himself to pull up memories of his dreams when stroking himself Bane wouldn’t let himself indulge those thoughts outside of his bedroom or the shower.

 

It wasn’t ideal and John’s touch was still electric and addicting to Bane – driving him a little crazy each time John touched his arm or their knees bumped under Bane’s desk at work – but it was better than those few hours of tense silence between them on Monday morning. Bane would rather lose his sanity and enjoy what he could with John rather than lose it all.

 

There hadn’t been many occasions previously where Bane had felt such a constant desire thrumming below his skin but he made a new habit of keeping his body sated, making it easier to maintain control. John didn’t seem to notice any change or at least didn’t react to it if he did; they touched more than they had before Bruce and Selina’s visit but never inappropriately, always sharing contact that could still be seen as friendly. Bane felt a little bad and deceptive since he often thought of John’s touch when he was in bed at night, but he figured no one was perfect.

 

On Bane’s second Friday working with the police he and John had a morning shift, the afternoon scheduled for John to undergo a physical test to see how his ankle was doing and if he was fit for duty. Bane remained at his desk after John disappeared for the testing, scouring through the case file on the serial killer cutting symbols into their victims’ skin. He knew that if John got approved for active duty Bane would need to give up the case – would have to give it up soon either way since he hadn’t made any progress. But the symbols were taunting him, the flourish of certain curves in the symbols painfully familiar but without an answer.

 

By now Bane had most of the case file memorized but he couldn’t pinpoint where he knew the symbols from. As the minutes edged towards an hour Bane could feel his frustration mounting, knowing it was likely that the serial killer would strike again if the police didn’t make progress or find a lead. When the door clicked open Bane looked up and saw a similar look of aggravation on John’s face as he skulked back to his desk. They were both constrained and needed some freedom.

 

“The park?” Bane suggested when John was close enough to hear.

 

John rubbed his eyes and nodded. “The park.”

 

Bane slipped the case file into the top drawer of his desk, disappointed on John’s behalf but also hoping this had bought him a little extra time. He saw that John was limping slightly, likely overexerted from the physical testing, but Bane forced himself to keep his distance until they got into the car. John didn’t like being seen as weak or incapable and Bane understood, briefly bottling up his instinct to protect.

 

At the park John made a few running throws before Bane was finally forced to hold him to the bench, noticing that John’s limp was worsening. “Let it rest,” he chided and then walked further down the beach to pick up some satisfyingly-large stones for both of them to throw from the bench.

 

“I just want to _move_!” John growled, flinging the largest rock he could find in the pile with unnecessary force. “I love working through the puzzles of cases and I know it’s safer in the office but I’m not meant to sit behind a desk, Bane. Two kids got caught in the middle of a gang war south of King Street and died today.”

 

“And what would you have done if you were there?” Bane asked, bouncing a smooth stone in his palm but not yet throwing it.

 

“I don’t know,” John threw another stone and then glared at the ground between his feet. “But I could’ve _tried_ to stop it. Instead I’m stuck limping around, no good to anyone. I know I’m not the only cop in Gotham but I hate the feeling of being trapped, not having the chance to act and do something.”

 

“I understand.”

 

“No you don’t!” John snapped and then brought a hand up to cover his mouth, horror in his eyes at his own words. “Fuck Bane, I’m sorry. Of _course_ you understand,” John looked over quickly and then away. “Prison... captivity for years.” John hesitated. “Did you at least get some freedom from some of your supervisors, or would that be too much to hope for?” John smiled wryly as Bane snorted.

 

“I might’ve been allowed to physically move around in order to work once I got out of prison, but I was never free,” Bane explained.

 

John shielded his eyes against the sun and stared at Bane. “Were none of your supervisors good?”

 

“A few of them started out alright,” Bane said, finally chucking the stone he was holding into the swift river. “But it never lasted.”

 

“If all of your previous supervisors were bad or turned bad with time, does that mean you still worry about us? I mean, it’s only been a few months.” John’s mouth was a tight line, refusing to show much emotion.

 

“I used to worry,” Bane admitted. “And I suppose sometimes I still worry that you’ll realize what a horrible decision you made and kick me out. But in general I don’t really think about it, which is odd because I should. I guess I trust you.”

 

John smacked him on the arm. “It wasn’t a horrible decision, Bane. I think it was one of the best choices I’ve ever made.” When Bane looked over John was busying himself with picking out a new stone, cheeks a little red as he threw a few smaller stones in quick succession. Bane followed suit and threw a few of his own until John spoke again. “Would you tell me about them?”

 

“They aren’t happy stories,” Bane said. “Seven years and none of them were pleasant.”

 

“Are the stories as bad as Talia?”

 

Bane felt his body warm with comfort and confidence when John reached over the pile of stones to rest a hand on Bane’s arm. Bane took a deep breath and drew strength from John’s presence. “Nothing is as bad as Talia’s story. But they aren’t going to leave you light-hearted.”

 

“If it helped we could trade stories,” John suggested, continuing when he saw Bane’s look of confusion. “You can tell me a story and then I’ll tell you one and we’ll go back and forth. I’ll even go first if you want.” Bane wasn’t really sure if John’s idea would help him get through the stories easier but he was curious to know more about John in return, and this seemed like a good time to share the stories weighing him down so that John might be able to help Bane carry the burden. So Bane nodded and let John begin.

 

Out on the bench in the hot summer sun John and Bane talked for over two hours. John told Bane what it had been like after his parents died when he was adopted into a foster home. “I was so angry at everything and they were all so _understanding_ for a while,” John said bitterly. “But after a while they stopped understanding and started getting angry right back. It wasn’t long after that when I ended up at St. Swithin’s.”

 

John also told Bane about how difficult he found it to adjust to the orphanage, and how he never truly felt like he belonged. “It was like my one chance at belonging and having a home had been taken along with my parents.” John’s anger had not abated when a foster family adopted him and then abandoned him shortly after when he proved to be too much of a challenge. On and off for nearly three years John had often run away from the orphanage to live on the streets and avoid what felt like uncaring pity to a young, lost boy.

 

“The anger never really left,” John confessed, a hand pressed hard against his chest like he was containing it, like he was the only one who could hold it back and keep the anger under control. “I just learned to hide it better, and to direct my anger and energy towards trying to improve this city. Not that it’s been easy to help a city like Gotham,” John sighed, sounding tired.

 

In return Bane told John about a few of his supervisors. Originally he had planned to tell John about the supervisors he had had in the order he had experienced them, but realized that some of his first supervisors were the ones he really wasn’t ready to talk about. Skirting the more horrifying and gruesome stories, Bane started with his first supervisor and then discussed each following one out of order from best to worse.

 

Samuel Tanner was Bane’s first supervisor, the contract signed January 1, 2005. Samuel had made Bane believe that the criminal correction program was actually going to be successful and that he had found his second chance at living a relatively normal life of work outside of prison. He was a trained counsellor who worked at a hospital part time and volunteered at a nearby college in his free time. Samuel was well-meaning and supportive, giving Bane a lot of suggestions on how to reintegrate back into society after five years in prison.

 

“But it went downhill,” John said with dread, as though wishing he could go back and change events. “How?”

 

“The power went to his head,” Bane explained. “He realized that he could tell me to do anything, and that he could punish me if I fought back. At first he just used it to _correct_ my bad behaviour,” Bane made air quotes with his fingers. He remembered those first few months sadly, when Samuel had begun to change. Bane had still been so hopeful that Samuel was the person who would help him and give him a second chance. Bane didn’t fight back at first, letting Samuel abuse him. “He got me to steal things for him, and then get more illegal things for him. It’s amazing what a good person with self-restraint will do if they find an easy way to get something done without risking danger to themselves.”

 

“How did it end?” John asked.

 

Bane couldn’t remember when John had moved to sit a little closer to him but he didn’t shift away. “I tried to talk reason with him but that just brought on more punishments. I didn’t know what to do except one evening in the loft he just... collapsed. I called 911 and they got to him in time. He had a heart attack but survived.” Bane brushed his fingers over the few remaining stones on the bench between his thigh and John’s, with no real intention of throwing any more. He was too swept up in his memories now.

 

“The heart attack must’ve scared him out of his power trip,” Bane said, “Because at the hospital he contacted the program officials to get me transferred. Later that day they arrived. We signed some papers and they got my collar and mask switched off just long enough for one of the officials to wear the armband. I remember Samuel apologized to me before I was taken back to prison until I could be reassigned,” Bane saw that John was watching him intently, listening to every word. “Two days later one of the officials told me that he had a second heart attack and passed away.”

 

Next Bane told John about Cameron Walsh, his fourth supervisor. “Probably the best one I had, not including you,” Bane said. Cameron had been the manager of a storage company and had gotten Bane to do a bunch of heavy lifting and help with deliveries for the company. It was a tiring but rather normal job and Bane hadn’t minded it; he liked being able to move and use his body. Cameron was mostly indifferent to Bane and they rarely talked; Cameron just enjoyed the free labour. It hadn’t been perfect but Bane didn’t mind working for Cameron, and had been disappointed when the company moved down south and Cameron transferred Bane back to the program officials rather than take Bane with him.

 

Bane’s sixth supervisor had been Ben Kallingham, the owner of a saw mill on the outskirts of Gotham. Ben had started out great, giving Bane new hope that not everyone who signed up to be a supervisor had ulterior motives and a secret sadistic streak. Bane worked alongside a group of other correctees and citizens alike as they all cut and moved lumber. All of the correctees slept in a small dorm on the saw mill property but for a few hours every Sunday they were given permission to leave the property and go into town as long as they were back in time for dinner that evening.

 

“It sounds pretty good,” John said hesitantly, no doubt wondering when the horror began.

 

“Yeah it was actually pretty good,” Bane nodded. “For over a year I finally felt like I might’ve made the right choice by joining the program and leaving prison life behind. Despite the collar I felt equal. But it didn’t last.” A few of the citizen workers had stolen some money from the safe in Ben’s office. Bane didn’t know how they got the combination or got the security camera turned off but they framed Bane and while Ben seemed relatively forgiving most days, he had been unwilling to listen when Bane tried to defend himself.

 

“The punishment was severe,” Bane said without going into details. “And then he passed me on to Minnie Taylor, the daughter of the prison warden who runs Blackcreek prison, which is the prison where I started my sentence.” Bane’s work for Minnie had been alright; moving more heavy objects and making deliveries they couldn’t let the prisoners do since they couldn’t leave the prison premises. But after Ben had turned so willingly on him Bane had lost all remaining trust he had. It didn’t help that Minnie called him the bane of her existence, making Bane wonder if he was just the bane of everyone’s existence.

 

“She was always a bit of an odd one,” Bane thought aloud, considering his memories of Minnie. “She was constantly writing in notebooks and the few times I got a peek she was usually writing about how no one understood the world like she did and how she would change the world someday.”

 

“Bit of a god complex?” John wondered.

 

Bane grunted. “Yeah you could probably call it that. Anyway, I was only with her for four months and then she pawned me off to Nate. And I was with him for six months before you came along.” Nate used the name Bane and it stuck, and by then Bane had mostly adopted it as well. Bane was a hardened correctee by then, constantly on the lookout for supervisors trying to take advantage, which was why he noticed when Nate tried to goad younger correctees with minimal sentences into committing more crimes to extend their contracts.

 

“Nate hated me and punished me often for trying to protect the other correctees.” Bane rubbed at his shoulder absentmindedly. His flesh torn by the whip had healed by now but beneath the light fabric of his shirt Bane could still feel the ridges of raised scar tissue. Nate had been creative with his punishments, silencing him and shocking him occasionally and starving and whipping him the rest of the time. Working hard manual labour at the factory when starving and with ripped skin had been some of the months Bane wasn’t sure he’d survive. “But then you showed up,” he whispered.

 

“I’m glad I did,” John whispered back, barely audible over the sound of the rising surf.

 

The sound of the waves brought back the memory of Bane’s dream of the beach with John lying on top of him in the hammock, a dream he re-experienced or had some pleasant variation of at least once a week. The mental image paired with the noise of the river and the still-warm sun hanging low in the sky made Bane feel like he was actually there, and it made Bane smile. “Me too. More than I can say.”

 

Bane tilted his head and caught John staring at him warmly. Bane felt like he wanted to say something, to take advantage of this emotional but somehow still-calm moment to perhaps confess something else, but he was interrupted by the sound of his stomach growling loudly. John’s stomach grumbled in response and Bane couldn’t mind that the moment was broken when John laughed openly. “How about we break for dinner?”

 

“I think my stomach would agree,” Bane said. “But let’s throw a few more rocks first.” He had talked about his five ‘better’ supervisors and Bane felt worn out. Knowing the last three supervisors were all horribly worse stories to tell, Bane needed to release some extra pent-up energy and he found John’s method of throwing stones to be very effective.

 

Bane collected two more handfuls of stones, pressing some into John’s hand and holding the rest himself. They moved to the water’s edge together, John moving slowly but with less of a limp now that he had had two hours for his ankle to rest. Bane and John threw their rocks silently, watching them disappear below the waves. Then when they were done and they were both satisfied Bane pulled John into his arms, prepared to ignore any protest even though he received none, and took them to the car.

 

They picked up some food on the way home and migrated to the couch when they arrived at the apartment, watching cartoons while they ate since it was the first decent show they found playing on TV. While Bane had grown accustomed to the mask over the years as a correctee, he still felt relieved at the end of each work day when John took his mask off and set it aside. It made Bane even happier seeing that taking off the mask was always one of John’s top priorities when they arrived at the apartment.

 

After dinner John told Bane about his years at the orphanage once he settled in, talking about how helpless he felt whenever another orphan was tempted away by the lure of dangerous work or drugs. John had seen many friends end up dead over the years, the streets taking them before any foster family had a chance to give them a new home.

 

John also offered some stories of when he had been in the police academy once he turned eighteen and needed to start actually looking into a career. “I never really expected to get adopted,” John said, a sad sort of acceptance in his voice. “Most foster families would prefer to adopt a child rather than a teenager – an angry one at that.” John knew he would be alone and had to find some sort of living to avoid the streets again, so he applied to the police academy.

 

“Everyone told me I was being stupid. I mean, we all had our time on the streets. We _saw_ all the shit that happened. The good cops were never there to help and the bad ones were being bribed off. No one understood why I wanted to be a cop,” John explained with a sigh. “But I knew that the badge would give me some authority and I hoped I could make a difference, and be the sort of cop Gotham needs.”

 

“That’s exactly what you’ve become,” Bane assured him, not liking the way John’s voice wavered with uncertainty.

 

“I try,” John tried to smile and didn’t quite succeed.

 

“John,” Bane reached forward and touched John’s chin, turning his head until their eyes met. The touch was bordering on inappropriate but John didn’t seem to notice. “I’m just one man but you’ve already made a difference in my life. And I see you working; the city is lucky to have you.”

 

“Thank you, Bane,” John’s smile grew stronger. “That means a lot.”

 

“It’s the least I can do.” Bane removed his fingers from John’s skin and took a long breath in and out. “Do you still want to hear about my worst three supervisors?”

 

John’s eyes hardened with worry. “Only if you want to tell me.”

 

“I think I do,” Bane breathed in and out deeply again, forcing himself to remain calm and to not let the memories affect him too strongly. “I’ve been holding onto these stories for so long; it would feel good to finally let them go. But…” Bane trailed off. What if John saw Bane differently after he knew what Bane had experienced, what he had been put through?

 

Bane’s heart fluttered when John rested a hand on Bane’s forearm. “I’m not going anywhere. I know it’s only been a few months but in my mind our friendship doesn’t have an expiry date.” It hurt to hear the word _friendship_ , forcing Bane to remember that these feelings taking firm hold of his heart were one-sided, but John’s words were still comforting. And Bane knew that if he told these stories and John didn’t pull away from him, another sliver of Bane’s formerly-shattered trust would be mended.

 

“Alright, from best to worst.”

 

“Do you want to get more comfortable before you start?” John asked.

 

“What’s more comfortable than the couch?”

 

“We could change into pyjamas and talk on your bed,” John suggested. Now Bane’s heart was racing, even though John had _just_ clarified that their relationship was friendship only. “That way if you want to go to bed afterwards you can just lie down.”

 

Bane wasn’t sure how realistic John’s plan was considering the fact that the simple thought of telling John about these memories was pumping Bane full of adrenaline. Bane doubted he would immediately feel like sleeping after finishing the stories. However, Bane wasn’t strong enough to dissuade John away from joining Bane in bed, even if it was just to talk. So Bane nodded his agreement.

 

Bane went to his room to quickly change into his pyjama pants and a t-shirt; normally he slept in just pants but with John joining him Bane figured he shouldn’t meander around topless. He took a few extra seconds to straighten out the few possessions he had lying around and then spent a few minutes in the kitchen cleaning up. By the time he made it back to his bedroom John was seated on Bane’s bed with his back against the wall. Bane also saw that John had brought the bandage he used to wrap his ankle and was in the process of unwinding it.

 

Refusing to make a big deal out of nothing, Bane moved over to the bed and sat against the headboard, at a ninety degree angle from John. He looked down as John began awkwardly binding his ankle, watching John bend forward at an uncomfortable angle to reach properly. “I figured an extra weekend of support will help it after the test today,” John said, holding up the bandage as indication before focusing again on trying to get his ankle bound properly.

 

Without making a fuss about it Bane carefully pulled John a little closer and lifted John’s right leg to set his injured ankle on Bane’s lap. Silently Bane grabbed the bandage and pushed John’s pants a little further up his leg, the short hairs on his leg tickling Bane’s fingers as he reached back down and began to wrap John’s ankle. When he looked up John had a bit of a blush but he still looked relaxed. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I don’t consider your back to be something that needs to be repaid.”

 

“That’s not why I’m doing it,” Bane smiled softly as he concentrated.

 

When he finished Bane gently set John’s leg on the bed, not knowing how he would explain keeping it in his lap now that he was done. John was still watching him but saying nothing, and before Bane could lose his nerve he began to speak. “Pat Flint was my fifth supervisor.” Her full name was Patricia but she always thought it was ‘too girly’. Bane never thought he’d meet a misogynistic woman but Pat proved him wrong.

 

Worse, she was a tyrant CEO of a textile company, abusing anyone unfortunate enough in their luck to be forced to accept a job at the factory. Bane was shouldered with the task of moving anything too heavy for anyone else, which was a lot of back-breaking work with all the heavy rolls of fabric. That was his job by day, and by night he acted as a security guard for the premises. For the six months Bane had worked for her Bane was constantly overworked and shocked liberally. He only managed to get transferred when he acted up, becoming more trouble than he was worth.

 

Bane could tell John was getting more riled up listening to the story but John didn’t interrupt and continued to listen attentively, trying to give Bane this opportunity to get everything off his chest. Bane took the chance willingly, telling his next story before losing his momentum. “My third supervisor was named Sylvia Lotte and I was stuck with her for almost two years before I finally got sent away.”

 

“What happened?” John asked even though he looked a little ill imagining what horrors Bane had left to confess.

 

Sylvia was the wife of a successful business owner and had a literal mansion with a large cluster of correctees acting as maids and servants – slaves – at any given time. Her husband was rarely home, always busy at work and obsessed with making more money. “I started off as a body guard for the estate,” Bane rubbed the back of his neck, already feeling his discomfort mounting. “And the first three months were relatively normal...”

 

“Bane...” John reached for him but Bane pulled away, disgust rising like bile in the back of his throat as the memories swarmed back. “You can tell me,” John assured him, though he sounded far away.

 

Bane closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the look of disgust on John’s face. “Sylvia forced me to pleasure her, and would shock me repeatedly if I refused her. I figured...” Bane pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to blot out the mental images. “I thought if I gave her what she wanted she’d get bored and move on, but she kept forcing herself on me. After I gave in the first time she started pairing the shocking with threatening to report me for rape.”

 

John made no move to touch Bane again. “For how long?”

 

Bane shrugged and kept his hands over his face. “Basically from three months in until almost a year and a half later. Her husband came home early from work one day and found us in bed. You know I would’ve shaken his hand in thanks for ending it if he didn’t shock and choke me until I passed out.”

 

John hesitantly touched Bane’s arm and Bane shuddered away, still caught up in the memories. “Talk to me,” John begged.

 

Bane breathed through his embarrassment. John was reaching out to him and Bane wanted to meet him halfway. “The things she made me do... I was more disgusted with myself than her, truthfully. It’s not that I don’t have sexual urges—” he knew he was blushing but forced himself to continue speaking, “It’s just that I only feel them for a few special people. Towards everyone else I might as well be asexual.” Bane could feel John’s gaze on him but this time Bane kept his eyes clenched closed for a different reason, fearing what he might give away if he met John’s eyes now. “I didn’t want to share that with her.”

 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

 

The care and concern in John’s voice made it feel like there was glass in Bane’s throat as he tried to swallow. Bane wasn’t scarred by his time with Sylvia but it had certainly left him feeling a little hollow after being forced to share something so intimate with someone he hated. He had always feared that it would ruin him, and any relationship he might someday want in the future. But while the memories were uncomfortable and embarrassing, Bane was better able to handle them now that he had all these feelings for John. Not that they would be returned, but even after knowing about Sylvia, John wasn’t pulling away and that meant something.

 

“There was one supervisor who was worse.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me right now,” John said quickly, genuine concern in his tone. “I think that’s enough bad memories for one night.”

 

Bane shook his head. He would never have the courage to start this conversation again if he stopped now. “Brian Marshall was my second supervisor. I was with him for five months and he nearly killed me.” Brian was the reason why Bane lost all hope in the program and the officials in charge, because it seemed obvious to Bane that the officials never completed a background check on Brian like they were supposed to for all new supervisors.

 

Brian’s younger brother had been killed by a criminal and Brian saw Bane as the perfect tool for retribution. Brian took full advantage of Bane’s collar and mask, silencing him so the neighbours wouldn’t hear Bane scream as Brian turned on the shock and left it on. Other times he would take off the armband and activate the collar to choke Bane until his vision began to dim, only to put the armband back on and let Bane recover before beginning anew.

 

“Once, right at the end, he locked me in the small room he left for me and didn’t feed me for two days. And then when he finally brought me food it was laced with something. I don’t even know what; all I know is that it made me violently sick. Then he shocked me as punishment for vomiting on the floor. I thought I was going to die,” Bane confessed.

 

“The next day when he went to work I used any energy I had left and broke out of the room and the apartment and then broke into the neighbour’s apartment. I couldn’t risk going to the lobby because most of the people in the building would’ve been happy seeing a correctee punished,” Bane huffed an unhappy laugh. “Even though I had lost all faith in the program, I had to call the officials and they got me out of there. I spent weeks in the hospital afterward.”

 

All at once Bane felt arms around him, John hugging him with enough momentum that they both fell back against the headboard and slunk down onto the mattress. Bane hadn’t been expecting to be comfortable with physical contact immediately after talking about Sylvia and all of the torture Bane had experienced. But John’s embrace was a soothing balm that slowly melded the broken pieces of Bane back together again.

 

They lay like that in silence for a long time. Despite all the horrible things Bane had just told John, and despite the fact that they were two grown men who had only known each other for a few months, it felt perfect lying there with John. In that moment Bane didn’t even think about his varying wet dreams circling around John; this odd sort of friendship was all he needed to continue on.

 

After a while Bane felt John sit up slightly and finally uncovered his eyes to study John’s frowning face. “Does it hurt a lot?” Bane lost his breath when John leaned a bit closer, fingers tugging almost innocently at the collar around Bane’s neck. “Thirty volts?”

 

“It hurts enough,” Bane laughed humourlessly, tilting his head back minutely on instinct to seek more contact. “Especially with the collar around my neck instead of a limb. But I can still move and control my muscles with that voltage.”

 

John’s fingers slipped under the collar and pulled it with a tiny bit more force. “I just want to tear this off,” John growled.

 

Bane could feel John’s knuckles stiffen against his neck when John tightened his hold on the collar, anger building. Touched but wanting to quell that anger before John made an irreversible mistake, Bane covered John’s hand with his own and slowly pried it away. “I want to as well, but unfortunately it’s not that simple. It’s alright though. At least I’ll get a few good years with you when I can forget I have a collar and mask.”

 

John yanked his hand away quickly. “What do you mean, ‘a few good years with me’? Where do you think you’re going?”

 

“John, let’s be realistic here,” Bane sighed. “I have a _life sentence_. I will die with this collar around my neck. Even if we get along well for a few years, and work goes well and you don’t get sick of having me around, you aren’t going to want me living with you for the rest of your life. Someday...” It was suddenly painful for Bane to swallow. “Someday you’ll find someone and want to start a family, and then I’ll just be intruding.”

 

John’s eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes dark with sadness. More than once John opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again, the room remaining dejectedly silent. “I never thought about that,” John grumbled. “And I certainly don’t want it to be like that.” Feeling bold, or perhaps just too emotionally exhausted to consider the consequences, Bane touched John’s hip and pulled him back down. “I’m sorry we talked about all of this,” John said, forehead against Bane’s shoulder.

 

“I’m not sorry,” Bane stared at the ceiling, his eyes tired but his mind still buzzing with adrenaline. “I feel better sharing all that, and I feel closer to you hearing your stories. I think we’re a lot more similar than I originally thought.”

 

“We’re both pretty angry with the world, aren’t we?” John laughed quietly, voice muffled by the blankets.

 

“Less so with a companion like you,” Bane smiled slightly.

 

“I like the sound of that,” John said through his yawn. To Bane’s surprise, all of his traumatic memories began to grow fuzzy as John’s yawn triggered one of Bane’s own. “Are you going to be able to sleep?”

 

Bane thought about it. “I think so. But I’d feel better if you stayed for a while. I felt calmer when we slept on the couch after I told you about Talia and Barsad.”

 

John lifted his head and blinked at Bane sleepily, already getting a bit dozy. “As long as you don’t mind,” he shrugged half-heartedly. “It can just be for the night. I’ll admit that the thought of getting up and going to my own room is pretty unappealing right now.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Bane’s voice was hushed.

 

“Then you have to get up and get the lights,” John smirked and then yawned again.

 

Bane had butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach as he got up and walked across the room. He glanced back over his shoulder for a moment, taking in the sight of John curled up on Bane’s bed in his pyjamas looking incredibly comfortable before flicking off the light. Bane nudged John to get him under the covers but John just swatted him away, more than half asleep. In the end Bane gave up and just slipped under the light covers himself, enjoying the sensation of John’s weight pulling the blankets taut around him.

 

“What if I can’t sleep?” Bane asked. John’s response was a quiet snore, already drifted off. Bane needn’t have worried; it only took a few minutes for his body to calm down as he listened to John’s even breathing before Bane felt his own eyelids growing heavy and drooping closed.


	12. Chapter 12

Bane blinked his eyes open and found himself staring at a ceiling he didn’t know, his bare back pressed against a cold metal table. He tried to lift his hands but found them bound at his sides, his ankles similarly pinned to keep him immobile. Immediately Bane tensed and pulled against his bonds but they were tight and secure, giving him no wiggle room to slowly work free. Bane’s heart was racing and then froze for a second when someone stepped into view.

 

“Hello, Bane.”

 

“ _Minnie_?” Bane grunted, confusion mounting alongside the adrenaline fuelling his body. “What the hell is going on? Where’s John?”

 

“Oh he’s quite safe,” Minnie smiled down at him; that sickly sweet smile she always gave him when she wanted him to do something for her. “You’re the one I always wanted to be my first.” Before Bane could begin to comprehend that sentence Minnie pulled out a small knife, the blade glinting in the light from the ceiling. Minnie was still smiling but now she looked a little deranged. “You can be my next messenger.”

 

“Minnie, put the knife down,” he ordered though he might as well have not spoken at all. Minnie brought the knife down to his chest first, beginning to carve symbols into his skin. The cuts were relatively shallow but they stung viciously as blood began to well up and spill over onto the table. Bane clenched his eyes closed and pulled with all his strength against his bonds but didn’t move an inch. Worse, tensing his skin and muscles made each cut feel deeper.

 

_Bane!_

 

“John,” Bane lifted his head and looked around frantically. His heart sank when his eyes focused on another metal table a short distance away in the room, John strapped to it and calling out to Bane frantically. “ _John!_ ” Bane turned back to Minnie who was continuing to cut into Bane’s skin with careful diligence. “You said he was safe!”

 

Minnie didn’t even acknowledge him or pause in her work, her perfectly-plucked eyebrows knitted in concentration. John called him again, more urgent this time. Then the table rocked beneath Bane and his eyes flashed open again, this time staring at a darkened but familiar ceiling. “Bane, wake up!” John was saying again and again, shaking Bane’s shoulder hard.

 

The burning sting of all the symbols cut into his skin lingered even though his skin was smooth and untarnished when Bane lifted his shirt to look at his stomach and chest. His hands were shaking as he reached forward and ran them down John’s arms, assuring himself that John was safe and not tied up. “What happened?” Bane croaked, still feeling disoriented with the images flashing in his mind.

 

“You had a nightmare,” John said. “You were screaming. Fuck, we shouldn’t have talked about all that right before sleeping.”

 

Bane shook his head, feeling a little disconnected and stuck between dream and reality. “No it was good.  I realized why the symbols in that case file looked familiar.”

 

“Bane...” John hesitated. “You were just dreaming.”

 

“I know, but it made me remember something I had forgotten,” Bane assured John, desperate for his friend to believe in him now when it was so important. “In the dream Minnie had me bound to a table and was cutting symbols into me and I realized why the symbols were familiar. There was always a little flick at the end of any lines Minnie drew when she was writing. It’s the same for the symbols on the bodies, even though they’re not letters. You’ll see the similarity when I show you the pictures.” Bane was halfway out of bed when John caught his arm and pulled him back down. “John, you have to believe me!”

 

“I do believe you,” John promised, voice soft and lulling. “But we’re not going to the police station at 3am. We’ll go first thing tomorrow, but for now we both need sleep.”

 

Only then did Bane notice the dark smudges of exhaustion under John’s eyes. Bane finally stopped fighting John and fell back onto the bed, body turning lax. “I don’t know how I’ll sleep after that dream.”

 

“I have an idea that might work,” John said and grabbed Bane’s arm again, nudging him until Bane rolled over onto his stomach. “You always got so close to falling asleep whenever I massaged the ointment into your back.”

 

“But what if I have another nightmare?” Despite his resistance towards falling asleep, Bane still sighed in contentment when John’s warm fingers began to lightly knead at Bane’s back.

 

“Then I’ll wake you up again.”

 

“I bet you regret sleeping here tonight,” Bane sighed sadly, pressing his face against his pillow.

 

John was quiet for a while and then cleared his throat. “I’m not really accustomed to doing these sorts of things. But I can’t say it was unpleasant. And I’m glad to be here if I can help you. I know it’s only been a few months but I feel closer to you than anyone else.” John pressed his fingers against Bane’s back a little harder, somehow pinpointing a knot of muscles Bane hadn’t even known about.

 

“I feel the same,” Bane mumbled against the pillow. Again Bane felt the urge to say something – _confess_ whatever it was he was feeling – but John had made the right decision and before Bane could even figure out how to properly word his confession he felt his body shutting down and drifting away into a dreamless sleep.

 

#

 

When Bane blinked his eyes open in the early morning sunlight he was met with a beautiful sight. Bane was on the side of the bed closer to the edge and John was asleep on the opposite side closer to the wall, a foot or two of space between them. John was still on top of the sheets but he had bunched them up to make a makeshift pillow under his head. John was sleeping on his side facing Bane, his face serene and his chest rising and falling slightly with each even breath.

 

Bane wanted to reach forward and brush the dark lashes against John’s skin, trace his cheeks and jaw and ear. He also wanted to take advantage of the fact that John never put Bane’s mask on last night, considering how likely it would be for John to wake up if Bane moved across the bed and pressed their lips together. Bane couldn’t imagine John being happy with that though, and Bane didn’t want to force himself on John. Instead he dragged himself begrudgingly out of bed and into the shower where he could act on the latent arousal in his body from John’s back massage.

 

Regardless of the nightmare in the middle of the night, Bane felt extremely well rested. John looked rejuvenated as well when Bane stepped out of the bathroom and found John in the kitchen, already dressed and preparing a small breakfast for them. Bane felt a swell of affection when he realized that John had truly meant his promise in the middle of the night when he said they’d go to the station on their day off, and hadn’t just been appeasing Bane after his nightmare.

 

Bane tried to apologize to John for dragging him into the office on one of his days off but John waved his apologies away. “I didn’t become a cop for the paycheque,” John said as they munched on toast across the table from each other. “If there’s something we can do to potentially stop another attack from happening, there will always be more days off in the future.”

 

They didn’t talk much about everything Bane had told John the previous night, about the nightmare or about them sleeping in the same bed – albeit on opposite sides of the same bed. While Bane felt like he should say more, having built up his motivation to share his secrets with John, he realized it wasn’t really necessary. Bane talking and John listening had been enough for Bane to feel a bit of release. There really wasn’t much to be said on the matter, it was all in the past; Bane had just needed a caring, listening ear.

 

The police station was relatively quiet since it was the weekend, most people on shift duty completing patrols and everyone else avoiding paperwork that could be left until Monday. Since the building was mostly empty John didn’t put up too much of a fight when Bane suggested carrying him, especially when Bane reminded him _again_ that the more he rested his ankle the faster he would heal.

 

At Bane’s request John had brought the CCP contract with them, and once they were settled on both sides of Bane’s desk, Bane set the contract out beside the photos of the carved symbols. He didn’t say anything at first, not wanting to lead John to a specific conclusion in case Bane really was more influenced by his dream than he realized. John looked over Minnie’s signature on the contract and the photographs for a few long minutes, brown eyes flickering back and forth to study each detail.

 

After a few minutes of study John seemed to pick up on something, holding the contract and then one particular photo closer to his face. Then John set both down and looked at Bane across the desk with a conflicted expression. “I see what you’re seeing, but it’s not enough.” Bane looked down again at the contract and the photos; anytime Minnie finished writing a letter – or symbol – ending in a line instead of a curve, there was always a little flick to the right, in both ink and blood. Bane didn’t know if it was a tic or a style choice but even though it was subtle it definitely seemed the same.

 

“What else do we need?” Bane asked, not willing to give up on this.

 

John sat back in his chair and brushed his fingers through his hair. “We’d need a graphologist to look these over at the very least to tease out any similarities. And it would be helpful if we could pull some other records on file with Minnie’s writing and signature for further comparison. That would probably be enough for a warrant, but not enough for a conviction.”

 

“You’re leaving me incredibly hopeful,” Bane drawled.

 

John grimaced slightly. “There are multiple things we could use but they’re all difficult to get. The murder weapon, which most people dispose of afterwards, a witness, or some proof that she had knowledge of the symbols beyond the tiny section the police released to the press.”

 

“Well at least it shouldn’t be too difficult to get more files with her writing and have someone analyze everything,” Bane said after a long moment of silence.

 

“I don’t mean this in a bad way,” John sighed, a guilty expression on his face. “But I’m surprised you’re this adamant about the case.”

 

“If even one of my supervisors gets what they deserve I’ll be happy,” Bane confessed. “And I suppose your dream has become important to me as well.”

 

John’s mouth relaxed into a smile. “Then we’ll do everything we can. I’ll call Gordon right now to get authorization to go through some of our filed-away forms and documents. There should be something with Minnie’s writing and signature on it if she’s associated with a nearby prison.”

 

Bane and John ended up spending the rest of their Saturday at the station after John talked to Gordon and explained their potential lead. Gordon arrived about thirty minutes later, in casual clothes with his hair a little unkempt but his eyes bright and sharp as he walked into the room. “Show me,” he said, and Bane and John did. The Commissioner must’ve thought it was a good potential for a cold case and gave them access to look for more examples of Minnie’s writing in preparation for a briefing they would host Monday morning.

 

After that Gordon left them to work and they spent all morning and a good part of the afternoon going through old files. It was tedious work but time passed quickly with company, and by the end of the day they had found eight different forms and documents Minnie had filled out for the city either by herself or on behalf of her father, the prison warden. Bane had to hope that it was enough and was just considering mentioning to John that they head home, actually wanting to enjoy some of the remaining weekend, when John’s cell phone rang.

 

John looked apologetic as he pulled out his phone and answered it. Bane didn’t think much of it until John’s face got a bit red. Before Bane could ask what was going on John stood up from the desk and walked a few paces away, holding the phone tight against his ear. “You had no right to do that! _I don’t care_!” John huffed and spun on his heel, but when his eyes met Bane’s, John turned away again. “And what if I say ‘no’? I could still say—Fuck, fine. But I’m not forgiving you for this.”

 

John hung up the phone and shoved it into his pocket, taking a few deep breaths before finally turning around to face Bane again. “What was that about?” Bane wondered, watching as John paced for a few moments and then leaned against the empty desk across the aisle from Bane.

 

“It was Selina,” John said. “She set me up with a blind date and the girl is going to be showing up at our apartment in _two hours_.”

 

The blood in Bane’s veins turned to ice, slicing apart his insides as his heart ached and his stomach roiled with nausea borne from anger. Bane couldn’t name everything he was feeling – disappointment, betrayal, fury, fear – and barely managed to contain everything. He couldn’t even think about pretending to smile; for the first time in years Bane felt hopeless tears prick his eyes.

 

“You could say no,” he croaked, desperate.

 

“Selina won’t give me the girl’s phone number to call her and cancel,” John started to pace again, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

 

Bane felt a headache coming on, beginning at his temples and spreading over the crown of his head. “But when she shows up you can send her away.”

 

“I’m not that much of an asshole,” John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I don’t even know what we have in our fridge to make for dinner.”

 

“You’re going to go through with it?” Bane swallowed hard, frantically attempting to remember how to put his walls up against this sort of internal pain. He wanted to flip his desk over when he realized that John had effectively persuaded Bane into tearing down all of his walls, leaving him without the knowledge to withdraw and protect himself from the cruel world.

 

“Well it won’t _kill_ me,” John stopped pacing and sat on the desk. Bane was so upset he could barely acknowledge his relief at seeing John remembering to rest his ankle. “Selina says I ‘need my eyes opened’,” John used air quotes. “But who knows, maybe she’s right about this one. I’ll just have to see when she arrives. Selina only told me that her name was Samantha.”

 

Bane watched John’s expression turn from anger to curious pondering in the afternoon sunlight, and forced himself to take it all in. This was the pain Bane could look forward to. Even if this girl wasn’t the one, another one would someday come along and steal John away from him. And there was nothing Bane could do about it because he was a life-sentence correctee. He couldn’t offer John anything, let alone a future. Dark thoughts clawed at Bane and began to drag him down as he wondered how long it would be before John found a long-term girl, asked her to marry him, admitted to Bane that she was pregnant and they needed the extra bedroom...

 

“Bane?”

 

Bane snapped out of his depressive thoughts. “What?”

 

“Are you alright?” John leaned a bit closer, eyes concerned. “I’m sorry this is so last minute. And after that emotionally draining conversation yesterday...” John bit his bottom lip. “I’m being selfish, aren’t I? I can just tell her to leave when she arrives. We can relax for the rest of the weekend if you want.”

 

 _Yes!_ Bane wanted to scream. _Send her away! Stay with me!_ It hurt so badly because Bane knew that wasn’t the choice he could make because if John’s happiness hung in the balance, Bane would be selfless. “It’s fine,” he lied. “A bit sudden,” the truth, “But I don’t mind,” lie. “We had to pick up groceries on the way home anyway.”

 

“Bane, I want you to tell me if you’re not comfortable with this,” John said.

 

And ruin John’s chance at finding happiness? Not likely. Bane busied himself with packing away all of the photographs and documents they had unearthed during the day, getting everything slotted into the case file and stored safely in his drawer until Monday. Even when his desk was clear Bane couldn’t meet John’s searching gaze, instead fidgeting with the car keys. “We better get going if you only have two hours.”

 

John looked a bit disappointed and Bane couldn’t understand why. “Do I still get a lift to the car?” John questioned meekly.

 

It hurt like a knife slipped between his ribs to pierce his heart but Bane couldn’t say no. “Of course,” he said and scooped John up into his arms. Bane hesitated like that and turned his face slightly to the side, breathing in John’s scent deeply, and then did his best to turn off the part of his mind telling him that this was why hoping was for fools.

 

They went into the grocery store together and quickly picked up everything they could remember that they needed, not having thought ahead enough to bring their shopping list with them to the police station. John picked up some steak and vegetables for the evening and then they rushed home, aware that they were on a time limit.

 

Once they got back to the apartment Bane felt all of his energy disappear at once. He couldn’t pretend any longer. It just _hurt_. John didn’t seem to notice, moving into the bathroom quickly to shower before changing and prepping for dinner. Bane put the groceries away with mechanical movements, driven only by routine. When he was done he walked to his room and grabbed his phone, knowing the shower’s spray would ensure John didn’t hear any of his conversation.

 

It only took two rings before Selina picked up. “I was wondering if you’d call.”

 

“I thought we had an understanding.”

 

“Touchy,” Selina teased. Bane might’ve accidentally growled. “Listen,” she sobered up. “Just trust me on this, okay? This is all going to work out. It’s for the best.”

 

The blade between his ribs twisted and dug deeper. “You think this is what’s best for John?”

 

“I promise.” Bane clenched his eyes closed, wanting to fight off her words. “Just trust me for one more day, alright?” Selina requested, perhaps realizing how much she had shaken Bane’s frail trust and hope. “And call me tomorrow.”

 

“I don’t think I will want to talk to you again for a long time,” Bane sat on the edge of his bed.

 

Selina huffed and then sighed. “Tough. Call me tomorrow anyway. And whatever you do, just be yourself tonight. Give me one grace day.”

 

“Fine,” Bane said. “But only because you promised this is what’s best for John.”

 

He didn’t wait for a response. Bane hung up and lay down on the bed, setting the phone by his elbow. He stared at the ceiling and eventually ended up on his side facing the wall. The sheets were still mussed and wrinkled from where Bane and John had lain together last night. How quickly things could change. Bane had made that comment to John about how things couldn’t last forever but he certainly hadn’t been expecting that he would need to let go quite this soon.

 

Lost in thought and self-pity Bane somehow didn’t notice the sound of the shower turning off or doors opening and closing. Bane’s attention was only caught when John sat on the edge of his bed by Bane’s feet, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a pressed button-up shirt with a collar that framed the hollow of his neck attractively. Bane was somewhat disappointed that John always ended up looking handsome and beautiful, and that the special occasion was someone other than Bane himself.

 

“How do I look?” John asked him, fidgeting with the collar.

 

The urge to reach up and still John’s worrying hands, to hold them and whisper reassurances, was powerful. Instead Bane looked away to the wall. “Quite dashing,” he said honestly.

 

John raised a hand to touch Bane’s ankle and then reconsidered, setting his hands in his lap. “I can tell you’re disappointed. But I promise we’ll spend all of tomorrow together, okay?”

 

“I just don’t like seeing you forced,” Bane said, which was at least partially true.

 

“You’re so protective. I love it,” John smiled affectionately and even that hurt. “But don’t worry. Now that the shock is wearing off I’m actually getting excited.”

 

“You’re excited?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve been on a date,” John admitted. “I hadn’t even really thought about it since you came along but it doesn’t seem like such a bad thing to have someone else in my life. If nothing else I think I could benefit from some release.” Bane wrinkled his nose in disgust and John laughed quietly. “Sorry, too much information. Well you’re welcome to stay in or go out if you want. Just don’t leave until I make dinner, okay?”

 

John stood from the bed and Bane rolled over to look at him. “You’re cooking already? You have another hour before she gets here.”

 

“I picked up an extra steak,” John said. “I’m going to treat you before she gets here.”

 

With that John left the room and Bane sulked on the bed, embarrassed by his own immature behaviour but too hurt and disappointed to do much about it. Throughout the apartment Bane could smell the seasoning of the steak John was cooking specifically for him and it pestered Bane, not allowing his mind to drift away from his supervisor and friend. Just last night John had said that he didn’t want a relationship to tear them apart, and now he was getting giddy about a blind date. Bane could _understand_ , but it didn’t make him happy.

 

Even the steak felt like a punch in the gut when Bane sat on the couch with it. It tasted amazing and it meant a lot to Bane to know that John had thought ahead to buy Bane something, had been willing to spend the extra money, and had even taken the time to cook for Bane when he could’ve been cleaning. It was reassuring to see that John still treated Bane the same as always, but that didn’t comfort Bane as his imagination supplied him with endless pictures of someone else edging into John’s life and pushing Bane out.

 

A part of Bane wanted to just drag John into a kiss before the mystery girl arrived, to make one attempt before he would be intruding. John was too active though, nervously pacing around the apartment to clean and babbling ideas to Bane even though Bane made few comments in return. “It’s too last minute to book tickets for much and I don’t even know what she likes,” John thought aloud. “But maybe after dinner we could go to a movie. That way you could have the apartment to yourself.”

 

“You can stay in; I don’t mind.” This time Bane was speaking the truth. He didn’t want John out of his sight tonight. Bane wanted to see what sort of woman Selina had sent to John to judge for himself. “Thank you for dinner, by the way,” he added after finishing his last bite of steak. Bane was hurting but he still wanted John to know how much he appreciated the sentiment.

 

“Like it?” John smiled widely, perking up even more at Bane’s voluntary conversation. “It’s a recipe I got from Bruce. He still has his mom’s old recipe box and most of the stuff in there is amazing.”

 

Bane had been looking forward to spending time with John’s friends again but now the thought of Selina twisted his stomach into angry knots. “I’ll wash up the plates quickly and then get out of the way,” he said because he couldn’t think of anything else he wanted to talk about. “Samantha should be here soon.”

 

“Shit, you’re right,” John said and rushed into the kitchen with Bane to pull out table mats and utensils to set the table. Bane was just finishing up the dishes when he noticed John hovering at his elbow, Bane’s mask in hand. It made Bane feel a little better seeing how guilty John looked, but not much better. “I hate to ask, but since I don’t really know Samantha yet I need to insist on the mask until she says it’s alright.”

 

It was the law. And while Bane hoped Selina wouldn’t send a girl to John who was so strict about the program laws, Bane didn’t want to get John into trouble. Bane didn’t want John to fall for this girl but he wouldn’t purposefully hinder John’s chances at love and happiness if he could find it in this woman. Without a word Bane turned off the kitchen sink and bowed his head, letting John slip his mask on.

 

The last buckle clipped into place. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“I forgive you,” Bane said, touching John’s shoulder briefly. “Now if it’s alright with you I’m just going to spend the evening in my room. And if you want to be alone in the apartment,” Bane kept his voice even, “Just tell me and I’ll go down to the gym.”

 

“Thank you,” John hugged Bane tightly, though he let go quickly when he felt how tense Bane was. “And tomorrow we’ll do whatever you want.”

 

Bane nodded and disappeared to his room. He should have just closed his door entirely to avoid any further pain to his wounded heart but Bane kept the door ajar, planning on judging this woman for every word she said. If she was right for John, Bane would back off. But if she wasn’t... Well, Bane wasn’t going to step aside and give John up to the wrong person.

 

She arrived shortly after six, with a soft voice and a sharp laugh. When they were still at the front door Bane could hear them when he strained to listen, though once they moved into the living room their voices became muffled. All Bane managed to hear properly was the introductions, but truthfully that was all he needed to hear.

 

“Hi, I’m John. It’s lovely to meet you.”

 

“Likewise! I’m Samantha.”

 

“I’m not sure how much Selina told you since she didn’t tell me much,” a laugh. “But just so you know I do have a correctee living with me. I promise you’re quite safe; he’s a good friend of mine. And if you’re comfortable with that I’ll just remove his mask before we get on with this date.”

 

“Oh...” an awkward pause of silence. “No, I’m not comfortable with that.”

 

“Oh. Well luckily he’s already eaten. I’ll just let him know, if you want to get comfortable.”

 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

 

Another uncomfortable breath of silence, then Bane heard footsteps walking towards the kitchen instead of down the hall towards his room. “How do you feel about steak?” was the last thing Bane heard before John and Samantha got out of his hearing range. Bane didn’t want to hear anymore and pushed his door closed.

 

Bane couldn’t hear any further conversations but based on the passing time he could guess how far along the date was. It would take some time for John to finish cooking up the steaks, the vegetables already in the oven by the time Samantha arrive. Then they would sit down to dinner and eat leisurely, spending most of their time talking and learning more about each other since it was a blind date.

 

It was around the time Bane suspected they were just finishing up dinner when Bane decided that he wanted to see what this woman looked like. Bane wouldn’t intrude or attempt to sabotage the date, but he needed to know her face before he could properly imagine throwing her out of the apartment. Decision made, Bane stood up from his desk and headed down the hallway. He would just grab the book he was currently reading, get a quick look, and then disappear again.

 

Although he was expecting to draw a bit of attention, he was not prepared for the first words out of Samantha’s mouth when Bane stepped into the living room. “Slow, aren’t you? I was wondering when you would come out to clean up the table.”

 

Bane looked from Samantha to John. Bane was accustomed to these sorts of assumptions about correctees but John looked shocked and indignant. “He’s not cleaning up after us. I was going to do the dishes when we were done our conversation.”

 

Samantha kept her bright blue eyes on Bane like she couldn’t trust Bane at her back, which was probably exactly how she felt. Bane saw that she was quite beautiful by society’s standards with long wavy chestnut hair, fair skin and plush lips. But the look in her eyes was ugly, as was the sneer on her face. “What’s the point of having a correctee if they don’t clean?”

 

“He’s my friend,” John’s voice was tight, like he was being strangled.

 

“You’re friends with that thing?” Samantha turned back to John and gaped. “Just _look_ at him! He’s practically half monster.”

 

Bane stood tensely in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do or say. He could try to smooth the conversation over but he wasn’t that selfless, and judging by the way John’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped the edge of the table, it was already too late. “Actually he’s one of the best men that I know!” John growled, standing slowly. “And I think that it’s time for you to leave.”

 

“ _Excuse me_?” Samantha snapped, face turning an unattractive shade of red.

 

“I will not tolerate anyone talking about a correctee like that,” John said. Bane wanted to go to John in that moment because it was clear to him that John was barely in control of his anger. But Bane was still rooted in place and John continued to speak. “Especially not in my apartment and _especially_ not about Bane.”

 

Samantha must have had very poor self-preservation instincts because despite the situation she smirked slightly. “Bane. Accurate name.”

 

“Leave,” John took a warning step closer. “ _Immediately_.”

 

Finally Samantha seemed to realize how serious John was being. She grabbed her purse and walked quickly towards the door, giving Bane a wide berth as she moved around him. Samantha slipped on her shoes and hat and glared back at both of them. “Enjoy your life alone with _Bane_.”

 

John took a few steps towards the door and Bane caught his arm, stilling him. “It will be a genuine pleasure,” John hissed at her from Bane’s side, tense but allowing Bane to stop him from moving further forward. Samantha left without another word, slamming the door closed behind her, but still Bane held John in place. He was concerned to feel John trembling so violently with rage. “I—I can’t _believe—_ ” John spat.

 

Bane thought quickly. He wasn’t even thinking about Samantha; he just knew he had to get John through this anger. “Go get your gym clothes on,” Bane ordered.

 

“Why?” John snarled.

 

Bane levelled John with a look and pulled him a bit closer. “Just do it.”

 

Another rippling tremor passed through John’s body as he internally considered fighting Bane, but then he yanked free of Bane’s hand and stalked down the hallway to do as he was told. Bane changed quickly as well and grabbed a small bag from the top drawer of his closet. He found John pacing at the door and ordered him into running shoes before grabbing his arm again, Bane steering John to the elevator and the gym.

 

“I don’t want to be around people right now,” John said as they entered the gym.

 

“This isn’t a social event,” Bane assured him as he led John over to the punching bag hooked up in the back corner. “Now sit down on the bench.”

 

“I don’t need my hands wrapped.”

 

“John,” their eyes met again. “Sit down.”

 

John still looked unhappy but he did as he was told, sitting on the small bench against the wall while Bane opened up his bag and pulled out padding and bandages. Multiple times John opened his mouth to speak while Bane wrapped John’s hands, but all that ever came out was, “I’m so angry.”

 

“I know,” Bane said each time in return until John’s hands were done. Then he pulled John to his feet and nudged him towards the punching bag. “Be nice to your ankle, but otherwise just go until you can’t anymore.”

 

John didn’t need to be told twice. Immediately John began to hammer on the punching bag, pairing punches with sharp side jabs that ended in dull thuds as the punching bag took John’s anger. Bane would’ve suggested that John fight him but sparring required more footwork and Bane didn’t want John dashing around on his ankle. Above the sound of the other machines in the gym being used Bane listened to the shuddering rush of John’s breath as he panted and abused the bag.

 

Bane knew John had reached his limit when he saw John’s shoulders shake but he still didn’t intervene. He waited for a few more minutes until John’s punches finally slowed and weakened, John working out the last of his anger until he was fully spent. Only then did Bane step closer and catch John’s arms, leaning closer to whisper against his ear. “Is that enough?”

 

John nodded and released a shuddering breath that was half sob, his body exhausted and overworked. “Yeah.”

 

“Shall we go home then?” Bane stayed close, his chest almost against John’s back.

 

“Please,” John said. “But I want to walk.” Together they walked back to the elevator and up to their apartment. Once inside John kicked off his shoes and leaned against the wall while Bane unwrapped John’s shaking hands. When that was finished John pushed himself away from the wall and past Bane.

 

“I’m sorry,” Bane called out a bit desperately. John froze in the hallway. “I didn’t mean to ruin everything.”

 

“Don’t apologize, Bane,” John said sadly. “I should be thanking you. I would never date someone like that. I don’t know what Selina was thinking.”

 

Bane didn’t know either. “Maybe she was more focused on the release part of the evening.”

 

John snorted. “She could’ve been the last woman on earth and I still wouldn’t have sex with her. Especially since I can find my own release just fine.” Both of them blushed together at that comment, John’s fading anger and building exhaustion killing his filter. “Anyway, I want to be alone for a few hours.”

 

John turned on his heel and disappeared to his bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. Bane was left alone to stand by the door for a few more minutes, shocked and reeling from how quickly everything had changed again. When Bane first walked out into the living room it had looked like the date was going well. And while Bane was glad John hadn’t put up with Samantha’s behaviour, Bane still felt a little bad for utterly ruining John’s night.

 

He wanted to make it up to John but couldn’t think of how. Bane locked the front door for the evening and busied himself with cleaning up the plates from dinner. It wasn’t his job but he certainly didn’t mind, even though it made Bane a little sad to see that Samantha hadn’t even finished all of her steak and left it to waste. Bane wasn’t exactly angry at Samantha for her words – he had heard those sorts of thoughts for so many years they didn’t faze him anymore – but he was upset that she had been such a disappointment.

 

Bane should’ve been happy that things didn’t work out, but he wasn’t. In the end Bane just wanted John happy. And if that included a girlfriend and family that took Bane’s place he would have to accept that.

 

Once the dishes were done Bane lingered in the living room, trying to think of something he could do to salvage this evening for John. All he could think about was a movie to distract him and hoped it was enough. There was a chance John had fallen asleep after his exhaustive workout and Bane didn’t want to wake him up by knocking. Instead he opened the door quietly and looked in, and froze when he saw what he had walked in on.

 

John was slumped in his chair at his desk with his headphones on and naked bodies writhing together on the computer monitor. John’s jeans were unbuttoned and shoved down with his underwear just far enough to uncover John’s swollen cock. John’s face was flushed before he noticed Bane, his eyes dark and lidded when he looked over and quickly pulled his headphones off. “Fuck, Bane!” John cursed, turning redder as he scrambled to pull up his underwear and jeans. “I wasn’t kidding about the release you know.”

 

 _Release_. Bane could give John release to make up for the ruined date.

 

With single-minded focus Bane stepped further into the room and stood between John and the monitor, finding a perfect place between John’s spread legs. Bane pulled John’s underwear and pants back down and gripped John’s cock tightly, feeling the way it pulsed in his hand. John quickly reached forward and grabbed Bane’s wrist, stilling him but not yet pulling him away. “Bane, I’m straight.”

 

Bane felt a conflicting blend of sadness and determination twist his stomach. “Are you?”

 

John’s cock twitched again. Now he looked uncertain. “I—I think so.”

 

Bane refused to give up this chance. There was no coming back from this. “Then close your eyes.”

 

John had already slicked his cock with lube so it was easy for Bane to tighten his fist a little more and begin to stroke John slowly. Despite John’s protest he offered a strangled moan when Bane started jacking him off, his head falling back against his chair. John didn’t let go of Bane’s wrist where he had latched on but Bane liked it, John’s hand moving with Bane’s own in the up and down glide.

 

John must’ve already been halfway to orgasm when Bane entered the room because John was spilling precome onto Bane’s hand. One of John’s hands held Bane’s wrist tighter while the other clutched at the armrest of his chair, keeping himself stable as he began to lift his hips slightly to follow Bane’s pace. Bane loved hearing John’s laboured breathing as Bane worked him closer, and the little choked gasp Bane received when he swept his thumb along the ridge of John’s crown.

 

Bane never looked away from John as he jerked him off, memorizing the dark flush on John’s cheeks and the way John’s mouth fell open when he started squirming more desperately in his seat. Bane had no intention of teasing John in this encounter and began to twist his grip, wringing more pleasure from John until his eyes finally flashed open.

 

“ _Bane!_ ” John moaned and then lifted his hand from the armrest to cover his mouth, muting himself before more words spilled from his lips.

 

Bane felt his heart leap at hearing John calling his name. He quickly used his free hand to pry John’s hand from his mouth. “Say that again for me,” he begged, because John allowing the hand job was one thing. Allowing it with his eyes open was another. But John calling Bane’s name as he stared up at Bane with glassy eyes meant that he knew exactly whose fist he was fucking as John lifted his hips in a steady rhythm.

 

“Bane! _Fuck!_ ” John continued to hold Bane’s wrist but threw his other arm up to wind it partway around Bane’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Bane allowed his back to bow forward as he rested his free hand on the armrest, curled over John and crowding him into the chair. By now John’s cock was throbbing against Bane’s palm and Bane knew it would only take a few more strokes. Bane could feel his own cock straining against his pants but couldn’t spare the energy to consider it, all of his passion and desperation focused on John writhing in the chair.

 

“You’re going to come for me,” Bane whispered. It was supposed to be an order but it came out sounding like a question, Bane awed that this was actually happening.

 

“I— _fuck_ , yes!” John groaned as his back arched away from the chair and his hips stuttered up into Bane’s fist one final time.

 

Bane felt his own hips jut forward in envy when John finally came undone at the seams. John’s cock twitched and pulsed as it shot thick ropes of come upward, painting the sensitive skin of Bane’s inner wrist and arm white. Bane milked him through it, stroking out each ounce of pleasure from John’s body until John finally collapsed against the chair and shuddered.

 

They were so close together, Bane’s hand on the armrest and John’s arm around his shoulders. Their faces were even closer, John’s head tilted back against the chair as he struggled to calm his breathing. If the mask wasn’t still on, Bane would’ve kissed John’s quivering lips. Instead he leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, feeling John’s sweaty skin and the rush of John’s panting against his chin.

 

They remained like that as Bane felt John’s cock slowly soften between his sticky fingers. It was only when John had caught his breath that he leaned away, fingers fumbling as he tugged up his underwear and pants to cover himself. Bane stood up straighter again to give John some space and saw that John was now blushing with embarrassment instead of arousal, John’s eyes refusing to meet Bane’s searching ones.

 

“I-I need to think,” John said.

 

“John...” Bane felt his heart sink. “I’m sorry...” He had pressed too far, gotten too greedy.

 

John shook his head quickly and clenched his eyes closed, trying to block everything out. “Please Bane; I just need to be alone right now.”

 

Defeated, Bane removed himself from between John’s legs and walked to the door. He didn’t glance back, knowing he couldn’t survive seeing John continuing to avoid his gaze. Bane went to the bathroom and closed the door. He looked at his bare arm and the streaks of come splattered on his wrist and inner arm. It was enough for Bane to fish out his own cock from his pants and come with a few strokes but his orgasm was lacklustre and disappointing, leaving Bane depressed as he shivered through his orgasm and then cleaned his hands and arms with a sad sort of detachment.


	13. Chapter 13

When Bane woke up the next morning the apartment was deserted. Bane got up just long enough to look around and determine that every room was empty before going back to bed and curling up in the warm sheets. Wherever John had gone he must’ve been planning to be out for a while since John had disconnected Bane’s mask with the armband. It was already halfway off from Bane’s tossing and turning in bed.

 

Bane pulled the mask the rest of the way off and dropped it on the desk. He was hungry but had no desire to get up and make food. His bed didn’t hold much appeal – John’s scent from his sleepover night had already faded – but it was better than seeing the rest of the empty apartment and knowing Bane had scared John off.

 

There was one thing Bane needed to do though, and he slowly reached over and grabbed his phone from his desk. It only took one ring this time before Selina picked up. “What the hell happened yesterday?” she demanded. “John just called me and said he’s coming over and he didn’t sound okay.”

 

“What were you thinking when you set John up with Samantha?” Bane asked instead of answering her question.

 

Selina was silent for a moment and then sighed. “I wasn’t actually planning on them getting together, if that’s what you’re wondering. I figured with you in the apartment she would inevitably see you and say something horribly ignorant. John would defend you and realize how important you were to him.” There was an expectant pause and then Selina spoke again when Bane didn’t. “What happened?”

 

“All of that,” Bane said. “Then I took him to the gym to work out his anger and then I walked in on him in his room and...” Bane cleared his throat. “I gave him a hand job.”

 

Selina made a noise that sounded halfway between a laugh and a gasp. “Well I was thinking more along the lines of a kiss but I guess that works too.”

 

“No, I ruined everything,” Bane contradicted her. “I forced myself on him and now he’s run off.”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Selina chided. “You know John. If he didn’t want it you wouldn’t have gotten close.” When Bane thought about it he knew that was true, and he felt slightly comforted considering that. “He’s just never fancied a guy before you came into his life.”

 

“He said he was straight last night,” Bane rubbed at his face. “He doesn’t fancy me.”

 

“For many people their sexuality is fluid and can change, especially when they meet the right person. And I saw the way he looked at you in return when we were visiting and it was just the two of you.” There was a smile in Selina’s voice.

 

“He just sees me as a friend,” Bane hedged, scared to hope again.

 

“He thinks he does, but he doesn’t,” Selina said. “I’ve never seen him happier. And if you’ll believe it, he’s never been a fan of close physical contact with anyone before.”

 

“He lay in bed with me two nights ago after we talked,” Bane said, a little awed at that fact now that he knew it wasn’t normal for John.

 

Now Selina was really smiling into the phone. “Exactly. Just give him some time. He’s probably having an identity crisis right now, which is why he’s on his way to me.”

 

Bane felt a nervous twisting in his gut. “What are you going to tell him?”

 

“Nothing. I’m going to listen,” Selina said. “But I’m going to try to help him realize his feelings to save both of you from dancing around each other until the end of time.”

 

“You presume a lot.”

 

“Are you going to try to tell me I’m wrong?”

 

“I just want him happy,” Bane said.

 

“You make him happy,” Selina promised. “You can trust me on that. I only sent Samanth over to open his eyes.”

 

“I’ll thank you if John doesn’t end up sending me away after last night.”

 

“I’ll do my best today. I’m not going to force him into anything but I’m hoping he’ll listen to me when I point out how happy you obviously make him,” Selina chuckled. “Anyway, I should probably go. He’ll be here soon. Keep busy and try not to worry too much, alright?”

 

“No promises.”

 

Bane spent another hour lying in bed feeling sorry for himself and then finally dragged himself out of bed. He cleaned the apartment and watered the plants on the sill, then forced himself to eat something even though he felt a little nauseous as his stomach churned. Bane couldn’t stop wondering how the conversation was going between John and Selina, even though he trusted Selina to promote Bane as much as was possible without forcing John into the idea.

 

Later in the afternoon Bane went down to the gym, using a few machines and then brutalizing the punching bag in the corner. The gym was relatively quiet so Bane took advantage of the sauna for the first time, enjoying the way the moist heat calmed his breathing and loosened his muscles. Bane couldn’t allow his mind to drift too fully with just a towel around him, memories of John coming in his hand the night before still vivid and sending arousal straight down his spine. He was tempted to jerk off to the images but felt too guilty to enjoy it and simply packed up and went back up to the apartment.

 

As Bane was dressing after his shower his phone on the desk began to buzz. He picked it up quickly, his heart leaping and then sinking when he noticed it was Selina calling him instead of John. Still he answered and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

 

“John’s on his way home,” Selina told him. “I’m not going to tell you everything we talked about because that’s up to John to talk to you. But I wanted to tell you that while you are going to have to be patient for the next little while, you shouldn’t give up hope.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I’m positive,” Selina’s smile was audible again and Bane couldn’t stop the tiny hopeful smile echoing on his own lips. “Also, he hasn’t had dinner so it might work out if you make something for both of you to enjoy. John was debating on whether or not to pick up food in case you ate already but I persuaded him to just go home.”

 

“I’ll make something,” Bane said, immediately heading back out into the hallway with a sense of new purpose. “Thanks for the heads up.”

 

“Anytime. And don’t screw this up!” Selina laughed and hung up.

 

Not the most encouraging words, but Bane took it to heart. He pulled out all the ingredients needed for one of John’s favourite pasta dishes and got to work. Dinner was nearly done when Bane heard the front door clicking open, and while Bane felt the immediate instinct to go meet John in the front alcove, Bane forced himself to remain in the kitchen and give John some space.

 

Bane felt a sad drop in his stomach when John’s footsteps traveled away from the door and towards the bedroom but he stayed by the stove to drain the pasta. A few minutes later his patience was rewarded when John walked slowly into the kitchen and hovered by Bane’s elbow to look at the stovetop.

 

“Chicken fettuccini Alfredo,” Bane supplied as he poured the pasta back into the pot and then mixed in the sauce and chicken, keeping himself busy to hide how nervous he suddenly was.

 

“One of my favourites,” John murmured. Bane hummed his agreement, not wanting to admit how much thought and effort he had put into this. He grabbed two plates from the cupboard and divvied up dinner, working through the awkward silence. Finally John spoke up, though Bane wasn’t sure he was happy about it since it felt like he was going to have a heart attack. “Listen, can we talk?”

 

Bane glanced over to see John standing uncomfortably by the sink, arms crossed over his chest. “Always,” Bane said quietly.

 

John smiled slightly at that and Bane felt at least one of the many knots in his stomach loosen. “I went to Selina’s today and we talked a lot. Um...” the tips of John’s ears were turning red. “About last night, I just need some time to think. But I wanted to assure you that I have no intention of sending you away or anything.”

 

Bane breathed an audible sigh of relief and reached forward to hug John, freezing when John tensed and stumbled back. Bane swallowed hard and tried to control the swell of self-hatred bubbling up inside him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered a bit desperately.

 

John shook his head and tried to smile. The smile wasn’t very big but Bane appreciated that John was trying to comfort him, even now. “Don’t be sorry. I’m just not ready. Even the physical contact we’ve been sharing is new to me, and now...” John coughed and looked away. “I just need some space and some time.”

 

Bane nodded and turned back to their dinner. “Is it too much to ask to watch a movie together this evening?” he asked the pasta, not brave enough to read John’s face.

 

“No, it’s not too much to ask,” John said and pulled out two glasses to fill with water for them. “Especially since you were nice enough to make dinner.”

 

Bane handed over John’s plate and took his glass of water in return, and together they moved out into the living room. They picked out a movie and Bane tried not to mind too much when John sat on the exact opposite end of the couch from Bane. The space between them felt like an impenetrable void but the rare glance or comment John offered during the movie was enough for Bane to continue hoping.

 

#

 

Bane could be patient, but time slowly and surely wore down the spark of hope burning inside him. He knew it would take time for John to think over everything that had happened and decide how he wanted their relationship to change – or if he did want it to change. Bane promised himself that he wouldn’t rush John or pressure him, knowing he would forever wonder if he had forced John into a decision one way or the other. That didn’t mean it wasn’t painful during every long day when their relationship remained strained and uncertain.

 

For the first week Bane told himself it wasn’t a bad thing that John didn’t mention the weekend again – neither the hand job nor the night when John had slept in Bane’s bed. The whole week of work was busy and rushed with their new potential lead on the symbols case, and it was easy for Bane to remind himself that it was no time or place for him and John to discuss their relationship.

 

The taskforce Gordon picked out for the case was small, only the most trusted people selected since they couldn’t risk word getting to Minnie or her father before the police had a chance to properly analyze her handwriting. Bane stifled a groan when he saw that Detective Rogers – the antagonizing old man Bane had collided with on his first visit to the police station – was also part of the small group, but luckily Rogers didn’t risk any overly rude comments with others in the room and with Bane and John leading the briefing.

 

Bane let John take charge for the most part, and was thankful when John didn’t mention that Bane’s initial connection with the symbols came through a dream. They explained that Bane used to be a correctee to Minnie and thought there were similarities in the writing style, and that they had pulled out some documents with her signature. The graphologist would be arriving Monday afternoon after Gordon called on the weekend, and while that was being done everyone would be working on finding more documents and potential details on Minnie’s background.

 

It was nice that the case was so consuming for the first few days. John and Bane were so busy working during the day that they didn’t have enough time to fall into an awkward silence, and they were too tired when they arrived at the apartment to do more than heat up food and fall into bed. Bane was able to ignore the fact that whenever their knees bumped under Bane’s desk John would shift away, and the way John would always quickly look away any time their eyes met.

 

The second week was harder. At the end of the first week John repeated his testing and was cleared for active duty, which meant that the second week was split between helping with the case in the office and going out on patrol. Bane knew John was happy to be out on the streets again but it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Often left alone in the patrol car or on the streets, the silence between them was tangible and painful, and even though neither of them commented on it, Bane knew it was dangerous for them to be so at odds while on patrol.

 

The weekends dragged, often with Bane ending up in his room after getting too disheartened to continue sitting in the living room alone waiting for John to join him when he never did. After the rejected hug Bane had withdrawn fully from John, intent on keeping his promise to give John both time and space. He continued to seek out John’s company with varying success but never sat too close or let his gaze linger for too long. The problem was that John withdrew as well, distancing himself in every way.

 

Although Bane wanted to be able to sit close to John and hug him again, to feel physically close with someone he could trust and who understood him, it was John’s friendship that Bane missed the most. It was agonizing feeling like Bane couldn’t talk to his closest friend, that he had shoved a wedge between them that couldn’t be removed. And it felt to Bane that every passing day ended up with them further and further apart.

 

Bruce invited them over on the weekend to celebrate John’s first week back on patrol but it was an uncomfortable visit. Selina was there as well, and Selina and Bruce seemed to share the goal of getting John and Bane close again. They would leave the two chairs side by side open for them at the table, and force them to sit together on the couch when they talked. But after dinner they backed off when it became clear how flustered and uncomfortable John was with the situation.

 

“I thought I was helping,” Selina whispered to Bane sadly as John and Bruce headed for the door at the end of the evening.

 

Bane sighed and followed John with his gaze, only ever allowing himself to stare when John’s back was turned to him. He could hear the apology and disappointment in Selina’s voice, echoing the much more heartbroken pain in Bane’s own chest. “I know.”

 

Halfway through the third week John and Bane had fallen into a new routine. It was one Bane hated, with John treating him as a friendly acquaintance more than anything else. It didn’t matter to Bane that John still didn’t punish him, and refused to send Bane away. After having such a close friend that Bane felt comfortable enough with to tell about his previous supervisors, Barsad and Talia, losing that companion from his life and yet still needing to see him every day was poisonous to his thoughts and heart.

 

For the most part Bane gave up, deciding that John must’ve made his decision to avoid pursuing a relationship and was just too afraid of Bane’s reaction to tell him upfront. If John was still interested it made sense to Bane that John would be testing out close physical contact again, or at least making an effort to talk and reconcile the void between them. But John seemed content to throw himself into work and Bane had little choice but to follow.

 

It was Thursday afternoon, almost three weeks since Bane had talked about his supervisors, and since Samantha and the following hand job. Bane and John were out on patrol, sent out of the office since there was nothing more they could do on the symbols case while their higher-ups fought to obtain a warrant without alerting Minnie; they couldn’t risk her finding out in advance and potentially burning evidence, but many people in law enforcement were edgy about offering a discrete warrant to investigate someone else connected to the law and prisons.

 

They had driven around for a while on the streets and then dispatch had sent them over for a foot patrol around Bancroft Street, watching the fringes of the large park being used to hold protests the last few weeks in an attempt to quell any potential unrest. John was leading the way, Bane a half step behind him at John’s elbow to watch their sides and occasionally watch behind them. The roads were surprisingly quiet considering that it was a weekday and that they could hear the distant shouting of a protest speech a few blocks away.

 

Bane was wary even though he didn’t know what he was looking for. It wasn’t that he was seeking out a confrontation but he always felt more edgy when potential dangers were lurking in the shadows, ready to strike from any angle. Bane didn’t really mention it to John because he knew they couldn’t do anything about it. This was part of being a police officer; stopping any potential threats before they reached citizens.

 

Still, when the sound of crying started up at the end of a dead-end alley they were passing and John paused to turn and take a step closer, Bane quickly grabbed his arm and stopped him. “I don’t like this,” he spoke over the distant cries of a baby, feeling his instincts beginning to scream.

 

John stared down the murky alley for another moment, squinting to see even though it didn’t look like there was anyone in the alley. The crying must’ve been coming from one of the two alcoves at the end of the alley, surrounded by tall brick walls on every side. “I don’t like it either,” John admitted. “But I can’t just walk away.”

 

As John spoke he pulled his gun from its holster, holding it close at his hip. Bane was issued no such weapon – no correctee would ever be given a gun. He was basically defenceless and useless, but Bane would never allow John to walk into danger alone. So when John started taking careful, halting steps into the alley Bane was right at his elbow, offering another pair of eyes if nothing else.

 

About halfway down the alley was a large dumpster but nothing was hidden behind its large bulk. The crying grew louder the further into the alley they traveled and Bane fought his urge to grab John and drag him back out to the relative safety of the street. They approached the end of the alley together and when they reached the two alcoves they turned in opposite directions, Bane checking the one on the right and John checking the left one where the crying was emanating from.

 

The alcove Bane checked was empty. Then he heard two things at once; John angrily whispering “ _Shit_ ” and the quiet scuffle of shoes by the alley entrance. Bane whirled around just in time to see a young man raising a gun, the barrel trained on John. Without thinking Bane rushed across the alley and forced John further into the alcove right as he heard the thunderous _crack_ of gunfire.

 

In the split second he had, Bane looked down and took in the small tape recorder still wailing. This had all been a trap and judging by the gunman’s gaze set on John – rather than Bane who would be seen as a more dangerous threat – this had been set for John himself. Bane pressed John back against the wall and whispered “ _Stay_ ” before crouching down and slipping back into the alley behind where he knew the dumpster would hide his large frame.

 

He prayed that John would remain hidden in the alcove and not do something incredibly stupid while Bane hid behind the dumpster, listening to the hesitant steps of the gunman approaching. Every muscle in Bane’s body was tense, thrumming with adrenaline that had each breath and heartbeat feeling sharp even though he was covering his mouth to stay quiet. He only had one chance to do this; if Bane failed to take down the gunman then John would be alone.

 

It was unbearable to wait as a million different scenarios rushed through Bane’s mind, supplying every possible way this could go horribly wrong. Bane could hear the man getting closer, his breathing harsh in the quiet alley. The problem was that he wasn’t entirely stupid, standing beside the dumpster where Bane couldn’t quite grab him. Bane refused to let the gunman get a jump on them though, or run away to try again later. With a final thought of John, Bane used all of his weight to shove the dumpster slightly, startling the man just enough that Bane could stand up and rush him before the gun could be raised.

 

Bane didn’t hold back. It took a mere second for him to be standing face to face with the man – mid twenties at most. Bane grabbed the man’s wrist first and twisted aggressively, snapping bones until the gun hit the ground. Then with all of Bane’s weight he shoved the attacker back against the brick wall, winding him and sending him crumpling to the ground, momentarily unconscious.

 

He didn’t have time to celebrate. Barely audible over the gunman’s last groan of consciousness was the sound of a door quietly clicking open. Then came John’s cry of surprise and Bane moved on instinct. All he saw was the door in the alcove across from John opening and the barrel of a gun before Bane threw himself in front of John. There was one _crack_ , a burning streak of pain along Bane’s arm and then a closer _crack_ that had his ears ringing.

 

Bane listened to the sound of a body slumping behind him and then curled his body more tightly around John, who he had pressed fully against the old door in the alcove. Bane had their chests moulded together, one arm around John’s shoulders and the other wound around the curve of his back. John was shaking badly and Bane wasn’t doing much better, a tremor working through his body every time he thought about how close he had come to losing John; his supervisor, his friend, his... _everything_. Bane hadn’t been ignorant to the feelings he had for John but only now did he realize how deep they ran. This wasn’t simple affection anymore.

 

After a few moments John lifted his arms and wrapped them around Bane’s shoulders in return, holding him even closer. “I’m alright,” John whispered against Bane’s ear. “I’m not hurt. I’m okay.” Bane shuddered again and tightened his hold, their bodies locked together. “The collar won’t choke you.”

 

Bane shook his head and released a sigh that might’ve been a sob. “You’re so foolish,” he said as he tucked his face against John’s neck. He wished his mask wasn’t on but Bane couldn’t change that while they were in public. Bane simply touched any skin he could to John’s neck, feeling his pulse continue to trip over itself. “It wasn’t my life I was thinking about.”

 

John said nothing to that, though whether it was because he didn’t know what to say or that he had nothing to say, Bane didn’t know. It didn’t really matter since it was only a minute or so later when they heard sirens at the alley entrance and a collection of feet rushing in. Bane remained where he was even when another officer found them in the alcove. He didn’t even move away when a voice he didn’t recognize said a bit frantically, “You’re bleeding!”

 

The unknown cop couldn’t pry Bane away. Bane only moved when John positioned his hands against Bane’s chest and pushed him away. The only thing that placated Bane was that John didn’t move away despite separating their bodies, staying close by Bane’s side as the cop tore a larger hole into Bane’s shirt to reveal where the bullet had grazed him. It was bleeding heavily, staining Bane’s clothes, and hurt terribly, but it was easy to clean and bandage.

 

While the first cop did that another one came up to them to explain that they had received reports of gunfire from the protestors nearby and had responded as quickly as possible. The man Bane had attacked was just waking up and would be taken in for questioning and the other was confirmed dead. John’s aim had been solid. “With Bane covering me the man’s next shot probably would’ve killed him,” John told the officer tightly. “That wasn’t an option and there was no other way of disarming him without leaving him able to take another shot.”

 

The officer jotted down a few notes and nodded. “You’ll still have to talk to a counsellor when you get back to the station. Standard procedure,” he said. “But we’ve got things covered here for now if you want to go back.”

 

“I don’t think I can do the last hour of patrol in our shift,” John admitted and Bane shook his head, feeling the same. “You sure you’ve got everything?”

 

“We’re good, Officer Blake. Go home and get some rest,” the officer smiled and motioned them back towards the street.

 

The second cop was finished tending to Bane’s arm so together John and Bane walked to the street and down the sidewalk towards where they had parked the cruiser. For the first time in weeks they walked close together, their elbows brushing more than once, but Bane was still too shaken up to really enjoy it properly. It didn’t help that adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, making him acutely aware of his injured arm.

 

They made their way back to the police station in silence, parking the cruiser in the section of underground parking for police vehicles. “I still have to go to a counselling session,” John said as they walked towards the elevator. “You can probably just go home early. We might even be told to take tomorrow off.”

 

“I would feel better going home together.”

 

John sighed and made space for Bane in the elevator. “Alright.” Perhaps John felt safer with Bane there as well, or maybe he just knew there was no point arguing with Bane when he was in this mindset. Either way, Bane ended up sitting at his desk and staring at files blankly for an hour while John took the elevator an extra floor up for the counselling; something all cops apparently had to go through if they ever ended up killing someone on duty.

 

The session took a little over an hour before John re-emerged, picking Bane up at his desk and leading him to the car. John didn’t say anything about the session, or about the day at all really. All he said on the drive home was that they had been given Friday off, and asked Bane what sort of food he wanted to pick up on the way home for dinner. They were again enveloped in silence but unlike the last few weeks this one wasn’t awkward. Bane was still caught up imagining what life would’ve been like if he hadn’t acted quicker, if something else had happened. He guessed John was also lost in thought, contemplating his own mortality.

 

They split up the pizza and sat a little closer on the couch even though they didn’t discuss whatever was playing on TV. After that John put Bane’s mask back on and headed for the door again, refusing to say where he was going or allowing Bane to come with him despite Bane’s insistence turning into pleas until the front door closed with a decisive _click_.

 

Bane was left to fidget with worry and pace around the apartment looking for something to do that would distract him. He called Selina and Bruce but John hadn’t gone to visit either of them, leaving Bane further flustered as he watched the minutes tick by. When John arrived back about an hour later, an opaque bag in one hand, Bane had every intention of telling him off for disappearing after such a stressful encounter. But John didn’t even look up at Bane as he kicked off his shoes and walked to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

 

Bane forced himself to go down to the gym to work out his anger rather than breaking down John’s door like he initially wanted to. He ran on the machines until his breath was coming in short gasps and his legs were shaking, his arm already too sore to consider lifting weights or using the punching bag. The adrenaline was finally leaving Bane’s body and he felt exhaustion pulling at him, sending him back up to the apartment to shower and hope for an early night of sleep.

 

That plan was derailed when, out of the shower and heading towards his bedroom to attempt sleep, Bane heard a whimper come from John’s bedroom. Multiple fears flashed through Bane’s mind, ranging from sanely wondering if John had hidden an injury to irrationally worrying that another accomplice had tracked them home. Not willing to risk anything when hearing John in pain, Bane burst into John’s room and stumbled to a halt, realizing he had made yet another mistake.

 

“Could you learn to fucking knock?” John yelled at him, a mix of anger and embarrassment on his face as he dropped the dildo in his hand and closed his legs tightly.

 

John was spread naked on top of his sheets, knees up and hiding the erection Bane had already gotten an eyeful of. The opaque bag John had returned with was on the floor, the red dildo’s packaging beside it. Bane could immediately figure out what had caused the whimper, the dildo barely slicked even though there was a packet of lube on the bed by John’s hip. It was still possible for Bane to see John’s abused hole, the skin red and sore-looking.

 

Bane should leave. He should turn around, close the door, and pretend he had never walked in. It would save them both some embarrassment and maybe John would forgive him again. But beneath the embarrassment on John’s face Bane could see sad frustration, and Bane knew he would be incapable of leaving until John ordered him to do so. Bane slowly approached the bed, waiting for the order that never came, and finally sat on the end of the bed.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked without judgement, brushing his fingers up John’s calf to his knee. “I thought you said you were straight.”

 

The embarrassment was still obvious on John’s blushing face, but the anger faded away to a desperate look of longing. “I thought I was,” John said.

 

“So what’s with the dildo?” Bane prompted, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible despite his mask. He wanted to calm John down and help move him away from his embarrassment.

 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about when we slept in the same bed, and the hand job,” John admitted, looking anywhere but directly at Bane. “I figured I would stop thinking about it with enough time but today...” John groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. “Before the other cops arrived when you had me pressed against the door I just wanted you to tear off my clothes and take me right there.”

 

Bane’s eyes widened with surprise as he watched John’s blush creep down his neck. From where he was sitting Bane could see John’s cock twitch at the thought, and Bane felt his own cock throb appreciatively at the mental image. “Why the dildo though?” he wondered. It must be obvious after the hand job that Bane wouldn’t have turned away any advances from John.

 

“You’ve been withdrawn the last few weeks.”

 

“I took my leads from you,” Bane reminded him, stroking John’s inner knee to watch his leg tremble.

 

“I was scared, Bane,” John grimaced and finally met his gaze. “I still am. I have no experience with this and I’m not used to thinking about a man like this. And that dildo fucking _hurt_!”

 

“That’s because you’re rushing it,” Bane chided lightly, skimming his fingers down to brush along John’s inner thigh. Their eyes remained locked as John’s legs fell apart just an inch. “May I?”

 

“Yeah,” John said on a shaky breath and let Bane slowly pull his legs further apart.

 

Once Bane had permission he felt his arousal catch fire in the pit of his belly, slow-burning and eager. “Hand me a pillow,” he said, lifting up John’s lower body to slide the pillow under him to get his ass at a better angle.

 

“Is it going to hurt?” John asked, watching Bane between his legs.

 

“You may be a bit sore from your first attempt,” Bane warned. “But you can tell me if you want me to stop. Just try to relax. It’ll feel better that way.”

 

“Alright,” John lay back against his other pillows as Bane grabbed the lube and slicked up two of his fingers.

 

Bane rested his left hand on John’s thigh and rubbed circles into John’s heated skin with his thumb, mimicking the circling action with his right pointer finger around John’s hole to soothe skin and spread lube. John still looked nervous but seemed to be calming down. Bane could see that John’s erection had begun to wilt from the earlier pain but Bane was willing to take as long as necessary to help John feel pleasure.

 

He was careful when he slipped his first finger into John’s hole, pressing in and out lightly to spread more lube and slick up his entrance. Eventually Bane worked his finger all the way in to his second knuckle, rubbing the pad of his finger teasingly against John’s insides. “How does that feel?”

 

“Odd,” John said, squirming as he adjusted to the sensation of something inside him, his hole clenching experimentally around Bane’s finger. Their eyes met and Bane smiled wide enough that John would be able to see it past the mask. John seemed to relax again at that, and offered a hesitant smile back. “Can you move it again?”

 

Bane held John’s gaze as he pulled his finger out and pushed back in, slowly fucking John on one finger until John fully relaxed around the intrusion of the first digit. Bane rotated his finger inside John to begin stretching him, enjoying the whine of pleasure John gave him while also seeing John’s cock twitch and begin to swell anew. Encouraged to know that John was enjoying himself, Bane thrust his finger with a little more force, smiling to himself when John began to lift his hips to instinctively meet each thrust.

 

When he was certain John was ready and wouldn’t be hurt Bane nudged a second finger against John’s entrance. John’s eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip as he watched Bane but he lifted his hips, shyly seeking more. Bane took the hint and wiggled his second finger in beside the first, pausing for a moment to let John adjust before pushing both in together.

 

John groaned wantonly and spread his legs wider, losing all sense of embarrassment as his pleasure built. Bane took full advantage and thrust his fingers in more demandingly, scissoring them to spread John wider. Bane could feel his cock straining against his pants at the sight of John’s loosened hole but held back, wanting to take things slow. He wouldn’t take this for granted or risk overwhelming John.

 

Bane was pretty sure John could come on two fingers but when John begged for more Bane was happy to oblige. He removed his fingers and reached for more lube, coating three fingers this time. Bane nudged all three fingers against John’s hole and let them sink in together, using just enough pressure that they would disappear further only when John relaxed and let them in.

 

As Bane’s fingers sunk all the way in to his second knuckle John was panting and whimpering with pleasure, digging his heels into the mattress for extra leverage to thrust down on Bane’s fingers with need. Bane watched as John reached down and began stroking himself dry, pumping his cock in time with the thrusting of Bane’s fingers. Knowing what John needed, Bane shoved his fingers in a little deeper to nudge against his prostate on each demanding thrust.

 

John gave a little hiccupping gasp, his back arching off the bed as he came across his hand and stomach. Bane fucked him through it, nudging his prostate again and again until John trembled violently and collapsed against the mattress. Only then did Bane still his fingers, leaving them inside John for a few moments to feel his insides pulse with lingering pleasure and then finally withdraw his fingers to wipe them clean.

 

John was a panting mess on the bed, glassy-eyed as he blinked up at the ceiling. His legs flattened out, his arms spread wide. Bane had never seen John more calm and satiated. Bane wanted to lie down beside him and hold John close, to know if that was even allowed, but his own erection was still pressed against his pants and aching for release, and Bane wasn’t going to force John into that.

 

As Bane sat up and moved to get off the bed John looked over at him quickly, reaching out for him. “Don’t leave,” John said. “I shouldn’t have sent you away last time.”

 

Bane felt his heart swell in his chest. “I’ll come back,” he said, standing up fully from the bed.

 

John’s eyes flickered between Bane’s face and the bulge in his pants and he licked his lips. “Are you going to go jerk off?” John asked, speaking again before Bane could figure out how to answer that. “I could... I mean, I could try—”

 

Feeling brave, Bane leaned over the edge of the bed to press their foreheads together. “Don’t worry about me.” Although he appreciated John’s offer, he could tell John wasn’t ready for that yet. “I’ll be back.”

 

John still seemed determined, catching Bane’s wrist when he attempted to withdraw again. “Could you do it here?” John requested, shy as he looked up at Bane through his lashes.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

John tightened his hold on Bane’s wrist and pulled him closer. “I’m sure. I want to watch.”

 

“Okay.” Bane’s heart was racing as he carefully detached John’s grip just long enough to pull his shirt up and over his head. He dropped it to the floor and repeated the action with his pants and underwear, watching John gaze at him with hooded eyes. When Bane was fully naked he slowly lay down on the bed on his side, facing John with just a foot of space between them. Despite John’s earlier embarrassment and uncertainty his eyes were greedy as they roamed Bane’s body and lingered on his swollen cock and balls.

 

Bane felt a little self-conscious under the scrutiny but it was also turning him on to know that John was so intrigued and interested in his body. It was wonderful just lying next to John, both of them naked on the sheets with their bodies on display. Bane knew he could get used to this very easily if John allowed it. Bane reached over to trace the curve of John’s hip for a moment and then grabbed the lube, unable to ignore his straining length any longer.

 

He got his hand coated and wrapped a tight fist around his cock, stroking slowly as his eyes continued to roam over John’s beautiful body. Bane loved seeing the muscles in John’s arms and legs from the gym and from his years as a police officer, the little trail of hair leading down to his crotch, and the distinct line of John’s strong jaw. “You’re beautiful,” Bane told him as he thrust into his own hand.

 

John’s eyes widened and his smile turned soft. “No one has ever told me that before.”

 

“Fools, the lot of them,” Bane groaned, struggling to maintain a coherent conversation.

 

John laughed quietly and shuffled a bit closer, filling the gap between them. Bane moaned when John’s knee nudged his own. On instinct Bane kept closing his eyes but he forced them open again, turned on by watching John drink in the sight of Bane jerking off. Bane’s cock was twitching in his grip, his balls already tightening as heat burned inside him.

 

“What does it feel like to jack someone off?” John questioned curiously, his hand resting on the mattress between them eagerly.

 

Bane barley had enough coherence to consider his options rationally. He stopped stroking himself slowly and then reached for John’s hand, leading John to his groin invitingly. John hesitated for a moment, his hand tense in Bane’s slicked one. Then John reached forward the rest of the way on his own and circled his narrower fingers around Bane’s lube-covered cock. Immediately Bane moaned John’s name and a thick glob of precome spilled out onto John’s hand. Bane was accustomed to his own hand but John’s would surely push him to the edge quickly.

 

John seemed pleased by this and began an unhurried pace. The grip wasn’t tight enough so Bane reached down and briefly wrapped his own hand around John’s, leading him for a few strokes to show John what he liked. John was a quick learner and it wasn’t long before Bane released his hold to instead grip desperately at the bed sheets, bucking up into John’s hand. Once John got used to the sensation and the angle he seemed eager to work Bane to completion, a pleased smile on his lips any time Bane had enough sense to look.

 

Each time Bane made noise John stroked him faster, spurred on by the vocal confirmation that he was doing things well. Bane could feel his body tightening as he fucked John’s hand, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last much longer but lacking the restraint to tell John to slow down. His pleasure consumed him as Bane gasped, bucking up again and again until his orgasm hit him like the crest of a wave crashing over him.

 

John milked Bane through it, squeezing out thick streaks of come from the tip of his cock. It took a long time for Bane to calm down, his breathing and heart returning to a normal pace, especially with John rubbing his thumb along the underside of Bane’s cock even after he was spent. Bane knew John was just curious and let him explore for as long as Bane could bear until he was finally too sensitive and gently pulled John’s hand away.

 

“Good?” John asked.

 

“ _Very_ good,” Bane said and shuffled a little closer until his hips were almost against John’s own, their bodies close together and sharing heat between them. Bane still wasn’t sure of the rules and boundaries but he lifted a hand and rested it on the dip of John’s waist, thumb massaging affectionate circles into John’s smooth skin.

 

He heard the beep of John’s armband activating and Bane looked up to watch as John reached forward and pulled Bane’s mask away, freeing his face. Their eyes held as John set the mask aside, lifting his clean hand to cup Bane’s face. “Will you kiss me?” John requested nervously. “I worried before that you were just interested in pleasure but after today I wonder if you’re interested in more—”

 

Bane didn’t give John a chance to worry or wonder a second longer. He moved his hand from John’s waist to the back of his neck and sealed his lips over John’s passionately. Bane felt John’s body jolt in surprise, tense for a moment before John relaxed and melted into the kiss. As one they moved closer on the bed until their chests were moulded together, Bane hooking a leg over John’s own as he barely contained his desire to press John into the mattress and devour his mouth.

 

Bane started out slow as he brushed his lips against John’s own, shivering pleasantly when John arched up to lie against him, their bodies tangled together. Once Bane was certain that John wasn’t uncomfortable or feeling forced Bane deepened the kiss and he swore he had never heard a moan as sweet as the one John gave him. They kissed until Bane felt his lungs begin to burn, his need for oxygen the only thing able to detach him from John’s mouth.

 

When they pulled apart John looked flustered and dazed and Bane felt a flicker of fear in his gut. “We’ll go slow from now on,” he apologized, constantly worried about ruining this flimsy chance.

 

John rested his palm against Bane’s chest. At first Bane thought he was being pushed away but then he understood that John was feeling his racing heartbeat; a consequence of his fear, arousal and hope all blended together in a mess of emotions. “Please don’t go slow,” John said, voice growing stronger with each passing second. “Everything I’ve been feeling the last two months finally makes sense,” John looked up at him shyly. “And I’ve never had anything feel as perfect as this does.”

 

“I feel the same,” Bane said, leaning forward to steal another kiss because he was allowed and John wanted this too. It all felt like a dream but Bane knew they were awake and he couldn’t remember being happier.

 

“I still can’t believe you literally took a bullet for me today,” John spoke with slight awe, now resting his ear against Bane’s steadying heartbeat. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such loyalty.”

 

“You should know that at this point it’s much more than just loyalty,” Bane confessed.

 

He wouldn’t put it into words yet because despite John’s words Bane knew John would need time to digest all of this and work on accepting all of the changes in his life, thoughts and feelings, and their relationship. They had gone from strangers to supervisor and correctee, to co-workers, to friends and now... Their eyes met and John smiled up at him with such warmth that Bane felt his heart flutter.

 

“Kiss me again,” John said and Bane leaned down to indulge happily, beginning a dance of lips he hoped would someday be familiar to them. Bane wouldn’t put a label on their relationship quite yet, feeling no need to rush it. All he needed to know was that John wanted this and wanted Bane here in bed with him. John was meeting Bane’s kiss with eager affection, his arms wound around Bane to keep him close, and Bane knew that there was nothing else in the world he needed to be happy.


	14. Chapter 14

 

Bane woke up slowly, a little disoriented when he saw John’s room instead of his own when he blinked his blurry eyes open. Then he felt John’s body curled up against him, Bane spooning him from behind and holding him close. Judging by the slow in and out of John’s breathing he was still asleep, cocooned in blankets and Bane’s arms with their legs tangled together. The memories of the day before came back in a pleasant haze, bringing the sensation of exploring hands and sweet kisses.

 

They had spent the rest of the evening in bed. Despite their excitement feeding their lingering arousal they set the dildo and lube aside, content to just touch and taste. As their bodies grew more tired Bane spooned John and held him tightly, their voices turning hushed in the growing darkness of the room. Although they had still been living together the last few weeks, the tension between them had stifled any sort of intimate conversations. They took advantage of the evening to catch up and discuss more of what they had been feeling but trying to contain.

 

They never really talked about whether Bane would spend the night or not, but conversation became irrelevant when their eyes drifted closed more frequently, pauses in their talking extending into near-permanent silence. Bane couldn’t deny how happy he was just lying in bed feeling John rest with him, their breathing mingling in the quiet room. Neither of them really made the choice as they both drifted off to sleep together.

 

Waking up with John in his arms was reassuring. And when John woke up, rolled around to face Bane and pulled him into a deep lingering kiss Bane finally felt certain that he hadn’t dreamt yesterday. At John’s initiation Bane took full advantage of the moment, rolling John onto his back and crawling on top of him to pin him to the mattress as he brushed his tongue along John’s bottom lip. John moaned and opened his mouth willingly and Bane delved deeper, teasing the roof of John’s mouth until John gasped softly and arched his body against Bane.

 

They ended up in the shower together, fingers greedy as they explored naked flesh. John seemed to take particular interest in clutching the hard muscles of Bane’s arms while Bane enjoyed squeezing John’s ass cheeks in his palms, liking the way John arched up onto his toes to rut his hardening cock against Bane’s thigh. Taking the hint Bane coated his fingers with soap and slipped them along John’s crack, drawing out moans from John that echoed off the wet tiles.

 

Still not interested in rushing John, Bane carefully turned John around and got his hands splayed against the tile for stability. Bane spread John’s ass cheeks and nudged his hole a few times with the tip of his thumb, his cock throbbing each time he watched John lean back and whine. When he was done teasing Bane slid his cock between John’s cheeks and began to thrust up gently, his cock dragging along John’s ass.

 

At the same time he coated his hand with more soap and circled his fingers around John’s own twitching length, stroking him in time with Bane’s thrusts. He watched as John’s nails scrabbled across the tile, searching for purchase as his pleasure built. Bane used his free hand to grip John’s hip tightly and pull him back with a bit more force, grinding against John’s hole and heat. Bane tucked his face against John’s neck and lapped teasingly at John’s skin, tasting the water droplets on his tongue as they both careened towards orgasm.

 

John bucked into Bane’s fist eagerly and cursed. When Bane briefly moved his hand down he could feel John’s balls tightening with his oncoming orgasm, and he massaged them for a few moments before returning to stroking John’s cock. With a few tight twists of his palm around the head of John’s length John threw his head back and came, spilling across Bane’s hand and the tiled wall. His whole body tensed as he came, his ass cheeks hugging Bane’s cock and squeezing tightly as Bane rut desperately against him, sucking a dark mark onto John’s skin as he came as well.

 

Bane jolted his hips forward to spill his seed between John’s cheeks, smearing it up and down until John was coated. Bane looked down when he was spent and saw his come trickling down the insides of John’s thighs. The image was so appealing that in his post-orgasmic haze Bane dropped to his knees and spread John’s cheeks again, licking him clean and feeling his cock continue to throb each time John whimpered in pleasure and shoved his ass back for more.

 

Eventually John whined loudly and turned away, pulling Bane back up from his kneeling position. “Too much?” Bane asked as he hooked his arms around John’s hips, holding him steady when he noticed how much John’s legs were shaking.

 

“You make it very hard to stop my knees from buckling,” John accused, smiling slyly as he wound his arms around Bane’s neck and pulled him closer.

 

“Just tell me if it’s too fast,” Bane said. “I don’t want to ruin this.”

 

“You can’t ruin it,” John rested his forehead on Bane’s shoulder, his wet hair tickling Bane’s skin. “I want this. And the more time I spend with you the more comfortable I feel with this. I spent so long telling myself that I was just mistaken about my feelings or that I shouldn’t pursue it because you might feel obligated to reciprocate as a correctee.” John’s fingers traced the muscles of Bane’s back lightly as he spoke. “I was so eager to date Samantha because I thought maybe I was just horny, but she was such a—” his nails dug into Bane’s skin and Bane winced.

 

“Shhh,” Bane whispered in John’s ear, kissing the shell of his ear afterward. “I wasn’t really offended by it. I’m used to hearing that.”

 

“That doesn’t make it okay,” John huffed. “And _I_ was offended. I yelled at Selina when I visited her for thinking that Samantha and I were compatible and imagine my surprise when she told me she had had other intentions.”

 

Bane tilted John’s face up so he could read John’s expression. “How much did she tell you?”

 

John’s eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement and then relaxed. “She must’ve talked to you as well, right?”

 

“When they visited and played cards,” Bane said.

 

John’s eyes widened. “That was a while ago.”

 

“You weren’t the only one fighting your feelings,” Bane told him. “At first I told myself it was just gratitude. And then I decided that even if it was more than that I couldn’t pursue it because I...” John was watching him curiously. “I can’t give you a future, John,” Bane forced himself to say, feeling lingering arousal give way to sadness.

 

“The armband and collar are just an annoyance we’ll have to deal with,” John said, determined. “I would never force you to do anything, so as long as you know that and _believe_ it, I think we can make this work.” Bane looked away but John cupped Bane’s face with his palm, turning him back. “I know your past and I know you now. The fact that you’re a correctee means nothing to me. I want you to be my...” John blushed. “My boyfriend.”

 

“How was I ever lucky enough to have you save me?” Bane breathed, overcome with affection.

 

“Let’s just focus on more kissing,” John laughed shyly and then keened when Bane eagerly pressed their lips together again, glad that John didn’t mind the lingering taste of come.

 

After a while they broke apart long enough to actually clean up in the shower, washing away their seed from the morning and yesterday. Once they were clean they stood side by side brushing their teeth at the sink, stealing glances back and forth, and then moved to the kitchen to share breakfast. They continued to sit on opposite sides of the table but now John subtly moved his foot forward so that their legs rested together under the table.

 

“I just need to make a quick call,” John said when they were done eating, both of them clearing up the dirty plates and setting them in the sink. “And then maybe we can think of something different to do on our day off.”

 

Bane washed up the plates while John disappeared to his room, cell phone in hand. John didn’t say who he had called when he returned and Bane didn’t ask, still wanting to give John some space without either of them becoming too co-dependent. John picked up a towel and dried the dishes before setting them away, and while they stood at the counter together they discussed their options.

 

In the end they chose the zoo as their outing for the day, remembering their desire to go weeks ago but their inability with John’s ankle healing. With many children still at school and parents at work the zoo wasn’t overly crowded when they arrived, though there was still enough bustle and screams of delight that Bane initially felt a little out of place. He hadn’t been to the zoo since his freshman year of high school when his parents had taken him and Talia as a treat, and that memory paired with all the people staring at him and his mask now left him uneasy.

 

John seemed to notice how tense Bane was. They were standing side by side in front of the Siberian tiger exhibit when John subtly held Bane’s hand, twining their fingers together. Bane looked down in surprise and John smiled worriedly. “Are you alright?”

 

“Just memories,” Bane explained, tightening his hold a little bit on John’s hand. “The last time I was at the zoo I was with Talia and my parents.”

 

“You never really mentioned your parents,” John said, though he didn’t press the issue in case Bane wanted to drop it.

 

“They’re not really worth mentioning,” Bane stared blankly at the tigers lounging in the sun. “When the police told them what Barsad and I had done they never spoke to me again. The last thing they said to me, at the court trial before I was locked away, was that they refused to be associated with a murderer. Even when I sent them letters from prison I never received a response.”

 

“I’m sorry,” John squeezed Bane’s hand as a small comfort. “I don’t suppose you want to try to reconnect with them now.”

 

Bane shook his head. “They’ve had twelve years. They aren’t a part of my life any longer.”

 

“We should try to reconnect with Barsad soon,” John suggested.

 

Bane’s eyes widened slightly, shocked at himself for forgetting even though he knew his thoughts had been preoccupied as his relationship with John shifted back and forth uncertainly. “That would be really good. I would like to see him again. And we should visit Bruce and Selina again soon.”

 

“Maybe we could thank their matchmaking with some meddling of our own,” John smirked. “After the years of Selina harping on me it would be satisfying to see her realize the way _she_ looks at Bruce and vice versa.”

 

Bane smirked as well at the thought, certain that Selina still deserved some payback for Samantha even though it had all worked out in the end. “It only seems fair.”

 

John laughed loudly and leaned his weight against Bane. His body constantly warm with affection when John was so happy and carefree with him, Bane ducked his head down to press their foreheads together to offer one of their unique kisses when Bane had his mask on. John smiled and nudged him back.

 

They were almost too outwardly close but Bane didn’t mind. After years of people calling him a murderer, a slave, a waste of space and a bane of existence, Bane had turned off the part of his brain that worried about what others thought of him. He cared about what John thought, as well as Bruce, Selina and even Gordon. But as long as John was comfortable and happy, Bane was content.

 

Bane was thankful for his hardened shell after years of abuse when they heard a disgusted scoff behind them. John and Bane separated to see a relatively young woman glaring at them, holding the hands of two children. The two kids were staring at John and Bane with wide innocent eyes but the mother’s gaze was anything but innocent.

 

“You’re a disgusting disgrace!” she spat, her expression making it look like she had just tasted something sour. Bane was certain her words would have been much nastier if the children weren’t present. “I can’t believe you’d choose to be with a horrible Lifer!”

 

Bane was expecting for John to withdraw, the unpleasant encounter injuring his new confidence in the relationship. Bane would understand and wouldn’t fault John for pulling away and releasing Bane’s hand. He knew that dealing with something as internal and personal as a change in sexuality could be daunting and leave someone nervous, uncertain and weak to negative comments.

 

Instead of pulling away John held Bane’s hand tighter. Bane squeezed back to offer silent support. “You’re the disgrace,” John said back, voice low and warning. “For teaching your children to hate instead of love openly.”

 

Before the woman could say anything else John threw his free arm around Bane’s neck and kissed his mask right where it covered Bane’s mouth. Bane grunted in surprise before gripping John’s hip, holding their bodies tight together. He could feel his body aching with longing, John’s passion dizzying.

 

When they separated the woman and her two children were halfway down the lane. As they got further away Bane could hear the older child whine. “But mommy, I don’t care! I just want to see tigers!”

 

She continued to drag them away and while a few other zoo visitors glanced around at the commotion, none of them seemed particularly bothered by John and Bane’s display. Bane could hope that maybe over time people were becoming more accepting of correctees in their community, and that the young generation hadn’t been fully swayed by the hatred of their elders.

 

John’s face was bright red but he looked proud. “I wasn’t expecting that sort of reaction,” Bane said, though he continued to hold John close.

 

“Neither was I,” John chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “But after all this time second-guessing myself and my feelings I definitely wasn’t going to let some ignorant person make me feel bad for being with the one who makes me happy.”

 

“I wish we weren’t in public right now,” Bane said, brushing his fingers across the curve of John’s back.

                            

John shivered and caught Bane’s hand, lacing their fingers together again. “We have all weekend for that. For now I refuse to leave until I see the penguins.”

 

“Lead on.”

 

#

 

They spent their entire day off at the zoo, cringing through the high-priced food to enjoy the fresh air as they explored the majority of the zoo. In the evening they made dinner together and curled up on the couch. At the beginning of the movie they found playing on TV they were seated side by side with their thighs pressed together while they ate. When they were done eating Bane pushed their plates aside and hooked his arms under John, pulling him closer. By the time the movie was over John was seated in Bane’s lap, his head resting on Bane’s shoulder while they both sprawled out along the length of the couch.

 

“I’m not being too touchy, am I?” John questioned at one point, sounding more curious than concerned. “I’ve never been this physical with anyone before. Even with my girlfriend when I was in the police academy.”

 

“As long as you’re comfortable then I’m fine,” Bane said. “I like the contact with you. Though I am curious about why I’m your exception.”

 

“You seem to be my exception for a lot of things,” John mused, fingers tracing where Bane’s collar met his skin. “But physically I think it’s because you’re both appealing and comforting. I like to imagine you pinning me down against the mattress and then wrapping me up in your arms after.”

 

“You make it very difficult to focus on anything other than you,” Bane accused, turning to press his lips against John’s forehead now that his mask was removed in the apartment. “But are you sure this isn’t too much too fast?”

 

“I still get a bit nervous at times,” John said, leaning into the kiss. “But the more we do things like this the more sure I am about my decision.” John caught Bane’s chin and dragged his gaze down. “Don’t expect to be rid of me anytime soon.”

 

“Good,” Bane smiled, this time stealing a full kiss.

 

#

 

The weekend was spent between chores and the bedroom. They went on an outing to pick up groceries on Saturday and decided to do a detour and visit the orphanage after lunchtime. With their new relationship Bane was still feeling possessive, wanting John’s full attention and the freedom to touch and taste him whenever he chose, but he had to admit that visiting the children at the orphanage was always a fun way to spend a few hours.

 

Aaron still clung to Bane as soon as the kid saw him walking in the door, standing on his tip toes with his hands reaching into the air until Bane picked him up and settled Aaron on his shoulders. After that Aaron was a permanent fixture while Bane and John talked and played with the other children. The kids who had been too shy on Bane’s first visit had grown to know him now, everyone wandering over at least briefly to play or say hi.

 

If Father Reilly noticed that John and Bane touched a little more frequently and sat closer together he didn’t comment. He only stood nearby to ask how things were going at the police station, and to give John updates on some of the orphans who had aged-out and were now working with another program funded by Wayne Enterprises to seek out employment and start a life of their own.

 

John and Bane briefly considered the possibility of having Bruce and Selina over for lunch and games on Sunday but quickly banished the idea. Instead they ended up spending the majority of the remaining weekend in John’s bed, talking, exploring and testing boundaries. John admitted that he still wasn’t quite ready with the idea of being penetrated by more than fingers but when Bane knelt between his legs and took John’s length into his mouth John gave no protest.

 

Bane was relatively inexperienced in giving blowjobs but he knew the basics and figured out the rest quickly when John moaned and squirmed on the bed every time Bane did something he liked. Bane flattened his tongue against the underside of John’s cock and dragged it upwards a few times before lapping at his slit, tasting precome and then sucking John back into his mouth. At the same time Bane rolled John’s balls in his palm when he noticed John lifting his hips at the contact, stimulating him in every way possible at once until John was overwhelmed.

 

It only took a few minutes of Bane licking and sucking at John’s length before he could feel John’s cock pulsing in his mouth. John uttered a weak cry of warning right before his balls tightened in Bane’s hand and come spilled into Bane’s mouth. Bane did his best to swallow as much as he could, gulping down John’s seed and licking away any that he missed when he finally pulled away to breathe.

 

John was breathing hard, his face and chest flushed with arousal. Bane wiped his mouth clean and lay down beside John, gripping his hip and dragging him closer. John came willingly, slotting himself into Bane’s embrace, easily appeasing Bane’s possessive desire. “Does it bother you that I come so quickly?”

 

“I consider it a compliment,” Bane soothed, feeling the way his fingers slipped across John’s sweaty skin. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience so I’m happy knowing I can give you pleasure.”

 

John laughed breathlessly and rolled over, climbing on top of Bane with shaky limbs. “Well you’re definitely successful with that.” Bane could feel the sticky wetness of John’s legs as proof of their earlier orgasms when they had both held a fist around their two cocks pressed together and moved towards completion as one. “Maybe I can return the favour.”

 

Bane traced mindless patterns against John’s warm skin with his fingers, smiling fondly. “Not too tired yet? We should soon be thinking about sleep.”

 

“I’m utterly exhausted,” John said honestly, body shivering each time Bane’s fingers swept across his lower back. “But I also know we’ll probably be too tired during the week to do much.”

 

Bane also knew that the newness of their relationship and these new touches would soon become routine. It wasn’t a bad thing; they would still continue to enjoy moving together and sharing pleasure, and they still had a lot of exploration to look forward to. But the urgency to touch and taste would fade as they grew more accustomed to this and settled in their new relationship. While Bane wasn’t concerned about a calmer version of their relationship, he liked the idea of taking advantage of their excitement heightening their sensitivity and eagerness while it lasted.

 

“I am yours,” Bane rumbled, smirking when John’s eyes grew hooded as he looked at Bane through his lashes.

 

“Say that again.”

 

“I am yours,” Bane growled. “And you are mine.”

 

Bane lifted his head when John leaned closer and grunted in confusion when John didn’t meet his lips. Instead John sealed his mouth over Bane’s skin where his neck met his shoulder. Bane’s cock was already thick and heavy between his legs and he felt a bead of precome dribble down the underside of his cock when John nibbled on his skin and then sucked hard. Bane couldn’t see the mark but he could feel his body tingling and knew it would be a dark bruise in the shape of John’s claiming mouth when John pulled back.

 

“You’re not getting away that fast,” Bane grabbed John by his hips and flipped him over, pinning John to the mattress with enough of his weight that the blankets dented. John craned his head back, exposing the column of his neck. Feeling teasing Bane nipped John’s pulse point lightly and then dipped his head down, traveling the length of John’s body and hooking a hand under John’s knee to lift his leg and spread him wider.

 

On John’s inner thigh Bane nipped and sucked a mark to rival the one he could feel throbbing on his own skin from John. More than once Bane inspected the mark only to decide that he could make it darker and start up again, lapping at John’s skin to soothe and then darkening it more. He felt the distinct quiver in John’s leg as Bane held it up and he smirked, finally satisfied when he knew the hickey would last for a few days. Bane pressed his thumb against the wet bruised skin for a moment and heard John choke on a moan. He logged away this information curiously for future but lowered John’s leg back to the bed and kissed John deeply.

 

John kissed him back and then pushed him away weakly, eyes barely open as he groaned. “I need to take care of you before I fall asleep.”

 

“You don’t need to take care of me,” Bane chided.

 

“I _want_ to,” John clarified, nudging against him until Bane rolled onto his back and pulled John on top of him as he desired. “I can’t promise I’ll be good at this,” John said as he slid down Bane’s body, settling between Bane’s thighs and lightly wrapping a hand around Bane’s length to angle it upwards.

 

“The sight alone would be enough,” Bane said honestly as his groin tightened with arousal as he watched John find a comfortable position and drop his head down. John looked a little smug at his words, his curled lips spreading open to suckle at Bane’s crown a second later. Bane’s mouth fell open as he exhaled quickly, his eyes clenching closed before he forced them open again to watch.

 

“Tell me what you like.”

 

Bane grunted when John softly lapped against Bane’s slit, his lips still sealed around the ridge of Bane’s tip. “ _That_ ,” Bane groaned, his hips stuttering up until John pressed his free hand against Bane’s hip to pin him back down. John was happy to take instruction, repeating his suckling and licking before exploring more. He opened his mouth and slowly sank his mouth down on Bane’s length but withdrew quickly, John’s face red and his eyes watering due to his sensitive gag reflex. “Take it slow,” Bane reached down and carded his fingers through John’s hair, soothing him.

 

John hummed his understanding and dipped his head down again, dragging his tongue along the swollen vein on the underside of Bane’s cock a few times before taking Bane into his mouth again. This time John combined his mouth with his hand, stroking halfway up Bane’s length while carefully swallowing the rest into his mouth. Bane continued to pet John’s hair encouragingly, allowing more noise to slip from his mouth when he saw how eager John became when he heard Bane moaning.

 

After a few minutes of John working Bane’s cock with his hand and mouth Bane could feel the pressure building inside him, his body tense and overheated until he was panting with need. Bane knew he was close, needing only a bit more to push him over the edge, but then John pulled back and groaned. “My jaw aches. I guess I’m not very good at this.”

 

“You’re very good,” Bane praised. “I’m almost there.” He meant to say it conversationally but instead the words came out dark and heated and a little sharp with desperation as Bane felt his cock throb with his heartbeat.

 

“You are?” John smiled and tightened his grip around Bane, squeezing him and then stroking him with torturous slowness.

 

Bane growled and tried to buck up his hips to find more friction but John held him down, smiling wider at Bane struggling and searching for release. Earlier on Bane would’ve been amused to see John teasing him but now he was too close to orgasm to bear it.  “Don’t make me force you,” his voice was low. He was joking but was surprised when John shuddered. “I wouldn’t,” Bane clarified quickly.

 

John bit his bottom lip attractively. “What if I want you to?”

 

Bane dug his fingers into John’s hair to tug for a moment before massaging his scalp. “That’s a different story. But let’s save that for another night.”

 

John was blushing but he nodded, dropping back down to refocus on his current task. Bane’s head fell back against the pillow as his breath left him in a burst, his eyelids fluttering as he bit his own lip to keep from groaning too loudly. John seemed intent on repeating every movement he knew Bane liked, causing Bane’s pleasure to swell so rapidly that he felt like he would burst into flames. Bane squirmed on the bed under John’s weight and allowed John to hold him down, John in control as Bane edged closer... _closer_...

 

“ _John_...” Bane moaned long and low on all the breath he had left as his body curled forward, his orgasm spilling out of him and into John’s waiting mouth. John’s eyebrows furrowed at the come in his mouth but he didn’t stop, still stroking Bane and sucking the last few drops out of him until Bane finally fell back against the sheets, utterly spent.

 

Bane didn’t bother trying to hide the slight tremble in his body as he reached for John, pulling him closer. John came willingly, body flushed but still calm after his recent orgasm, which was a lucky thing since they really had to sleep soon. John curled up against Bane’s side and yawned widely while Bane tucked the blankets around them. He wished they didn’t need to go to work the next day but the weekend had been a memorable one, and also one that left him feeling much more secure in their relationship and his feelings.

 

“Hey, Bane...” John mumbled against Bane’s skin where his head was resting on Bane’s arm.

 

“Yes?” Bane turned slightly, burying his nose in John’s hair.

 

“...I’ve never felt this way before.” John’s voice was slurred and interrupted by another yawn before he settled his head back down again.

 

“Nor have I,” Bane said, circling his finger around the curve of John’s bare shoulder where Bane could feel the skin cooling, exposed above the blanket. The thought of saying more briefly passed through Bane’s mind but he could hear John’s breathing evening out and felt his own heart slowing as sleep tugged them away. And as long as they were together Bane didn’t mind the brief interruption of sleep, especially since he dreamed of lounging lazily in the hammock with John almost every night now.


	15. Chapter 15

A police officer named Greg called in sick one afternoon and John was tasked with covering his guard duty for a protest happening down at City Hall. John was the only extra needed but Bane signed up on basic principle and no one argued. John drove them down and parked a few blocks away from City Hall, but before Bane could step out of the car John reached over and grabbed his wrist, stilling him.

 

“I need to warn you,” John sighed, face grim. “This isn’t going to be a fun shift.”

 

“It’s just a protest,” Bane reasoned.

 

“It’s an anti-LGBT protest,” John clarified. Bane tensed beneath John’s hold and John nodded. “Yeah. We’re not going to be happy with what they’re saying.”

 

“And we have to _protect_ them?”

 

“This is why I request to not work protests unless absolutely necessary,” John said. “It’s likely that I often won’t like what they’re arguing about. But it’s part of the job and I need to cover Greg. That doesn’t mean you have to put up with it as well.”

 

“I just don’t understand why we should have to do this at all,” Bane grumbled. “If they’re going to spout hatred then I don’t think they earn any protection.”

 

“Freedom of speech,” John shrugged. “Like it or not, they’re allowed to voice their opinions. Our only job is to ensure that the protest remains peaceful.”

 

“Even after you just—” Bane huffed, imagining how frustrated he would be listening to this; but John… “Listening to this when you’re questioning your own sexuality isn’t going to be pleasant,” Bane said softly.

 

“I know. I’ll be alright,” John squeezed his arm. “That doesn’t mean you need to deal with it too. I wouldn’t be upset if you went back to the office and picked me up on your way home.”

 

“Don’t be foolish. We’ll weather it together.” Bane glanced out through the front windshield, confirming that they were alone before resting his forehead against John’s. They shared a smile and then stepped out of the car.

 

Bane wasn’t exactly happy when John kept a good two feet of space between them as they walked down the street towards the protest but he knew it was for their safety; there would be no benefit to egging on an already-upset mob of protestors. Even from a few blocks away Bane could already catch snippets of what they were shouting; harsh, angry voices filled with hate and ignorance and far too much imagination.

 

Bane glanced over and saw John’s stony face, John either tuning out the words they were approaching or doing an excellent job of hiding any effects the words might be having. Bane wanted to wrap John up in his arms and take him away where he would feel loved and accepted, especially when his decision to be with Bane was so new and uncertain. However, Bane would follow John and had no intentions of leaving him alone to deal with this.

 

Even as John and Bane rounded a corner and saw the mass of protesters around the base of City Hall John didn’t falter. He walked up to join the semi-circle of other officers surrounding the building, some faced out to the streets while others watched the protestors critically. Bane completed the circle with about ten paces between himself and John and another officer he didn’t know on his other side.

 

The hateful slurs and ignorant arguments washed over Bane and he took a deep breath, trying to center himself and remain detached from what the people behind him were saying. He didn’t know them; their acceptance of his choices meant nothing to his life’s happiness. And Bane was confident that no matter how much these people screamed, society would always move towards enlightenment and equality – slowly sometimes, but constantly.

 

It was still hard to ignore their words until Bane stole a subtle glance to John, who was studying the streets sharply. Perhaps when they went home tonight John might be a little withdrawn, or tentative, and he and Bane might have a serious talk about what they were hearing. But for right now John was a police officer first, and a man second.

 

Watching John remain forcefully impassive despite the protestors’ shouts made Bane realize how _dedicated_ cops had to be to do what they did. They didn’t just put on their badge and lazily insist they believed in justice. At times they actually had to put aside their own beliefs in order to uphold the law and maintain fairness across the city. It was a selfless job; few even thought to thank cops for the work they did and the risks they took to keep the city safe and free.

 

When Bane watched John he was truly inspired.

 

#

 

“You’ll never believe what I just found.” Bane looked up from the folder he was glancing through to give John his full attention. John was seated at his own desk, looking at something on the screen of his dusty old computer. John swivelled in his chair and pointed at a line of text that was too small for Bane to read. “I found where Barsad is being held. Five years ago he was transferred to Blackcreek Prison.”

 

Bane’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s where Rob Taylor is warden, and where Minnie spends most of her time.”

 

“This could be really helpful,” John said, rolling his chair over to sit on the opposite side of Bane’s desk, their knees brushing under the desk. “While everyone in the taskforce is tiptoeing around not alerting the Taylors about our investigation, we could do some recon while you visit Barsad. He might even have some information for us.”

 

“It’s possible. He’s very observant,” Bane said, though his stomach was twisting into knots. “But I won’t make him risk his safety.”

 

“His help would be voluntary,” John said. “And I won’t allow him to come to harm if he does decide to help.” They couldn’t be overly obvious in a room full of cops, but John did press their legs together a little more solidly as a small form of reassurance.

 

“Thanks.” Bane still wasn’t allowing himself to think about how nervous he was at the thought of finally being able to see Barsad again. The last act they had completed together as free men had been the vengeful killing of Talia’s murderers and rapists, bathing themselves in blood and creating a new bond they could never wash away. They went through trial and were locked up in prison together. Then the criminal correction program had been offered.

 

Bane had taken the offer while Barsad had rejected it. Bane still felt like he had deserted Barsad in making his choice, despite Barsad giving his blessing at their last meal together before Bane was sent away to meet with Samuel. Barsad was capable of taking care of himself but he had a smaller stature than Bane and could’ve potentially become a target. The fact that he had been transferred to a new prison could’ve been good or bad news. Bane could only hope that Barsad had been moved for reasons other than a risk to his life.

 

“Officer Blake.” Both of them looked up to the main office door. There they saw Dawn, the older female correctee saved from Nate’s factory, standing in the doorframe. Her collar was still in place, as it always would be, but after a few months away from the gruelling factory and Nate’s wrath she looked healthier and less worn out. “The Commissioner would like to speak with you and Mister Bane. He’s waiting in his office.”

 

“Thank you,” John smiled at her, though she was staring at Bane, their eyes locked. Bane nodded and she shuffled her feet, smiling uncertainly. “Shall we?” John caught Bane’s attention.

 

“Yes,” Bane agreed, standing up from the desk and moving towards the door before Dawn could disappear while John was caught up with putting some of his files away. Dawn tensed up a bit at Bane’s approach but didn’t pull away, watching him. “Are you well?” Bane asked, feeling awkward but forcing himself to ask.

 

She nodded, her shoulders dropping a bit. “I am. They have me running messages and helping to organize all the files in the basement. I’m just glad they didn’t force me to go out on patrol like Brian and Derek.”

 

“I haven’t seen them since we were all at the factory,” Bane said. That day felt like so long ago now; so much had changed.

 

“They patrol every day,” Dawn told him. “They’re busy but I think they like it. The few times I see them they’re smiling. It’s dangerous work but they like being active.”

 

“And your supervisor?” Bane wondered. He wasn’t sure why he was so determined to make sure Dawn and the others were all doing well. They had never been friends at the factory; making friends as a correctee was often a foolhardy thing to do. But he had always protected them in some way, mainly because Nate had mistakenly forced the role on him though Bane hadn’t fought it.

 

“Spencer’s good,” she said. “He’s a private man, doesn’t talk to me much. He’s usually busy with his own paperwork, and then his family when we’re home. I do most of the cleaning but I don’t mind.”

 

John joined Bane at his elbow, touching his arm for just a moment to draw Bane’s gaze. “Sorry to interrupt.”

 

“I should be getting back anyway,” Dawn smiled at John and then looked back to Bane. “I’m glad to see you’re finally happy. What Nate did to you wasn’t right.”

 

Bane wondered how Dawn knew he was happy. Physically Bane knew he looked healthier, his back healed and his body properly nourished. But being healthy wasn’t the same thing as being happy. Perhaps… Bane stole a quick glance to John. Perhaps, even if their relationship wasn’t exposed, the benefits of it were obvious to anyone looking close enough. The idea that his happiness shared with John emanated from them made Bane smile.

 

“I’m glad we’re all free,” Bane said to Dawn as she was turning to leave. She nodded her agreement and bid them farewell.

 

Bane was left standing in the doorframe with John at his side, a mere inch of space between them. Bane couldn’t lean down and kiss John the way he wanted to, or wrap him up in his arms, but the brief touch to his arm had been enough. His eyes met John’s warm brown ones and then together they made their way towards the elevator to meet with Commissioner Gordon in his office.

 

The door was closed when they arrived. John knocked and Gordon called through the door that he needed a minute. After that Bane could hear the quiet murmur of the man talking on the phone. The rest of the hallway was quiet and empty and Bane took advantage of the moment to crowd John up against the wall and hold John by the hips. He couldn’t kiss John now and wouldn’t risk their jobs to tease John more physically. Just holding John pleased Bane enough that his chest vibrated with a warm purr.

 

John wound his arms around Bane’s neck to pull him closer and kissed Bane on his cheek where his skin was exposed. Then John withdrew his arms and Bane took the hint, moving to lean against the wall beside John as nonchalantly as they could both manage. Bane felt the instinctive urge to strain his hearing to listen in on Gordon’s conversation but pushed it aside, content to simply talk with John quietly until Gordon called them in.

 

They both took their seats and Gordon looked at them across his desk, which had somehow managed to accumulate even more folders since the last time Bane had been in the office. “Good to see both of you again,” Gordon began as soon as they were settled. “We have a lot to discuss today. First, Officer Blake, how are you doing after the incident on Thursday? I understand your counselling session went well.”

 

“Yeah, it went fine,” John said. Bane saw the way John’s shoulders had hunched up defensively even though John was clearly trying to remain relaxed. “I was understandably scared on Thursday but I feel quite steady now.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Gordon smoothed out his moustache. “The reason I ask is because most cops are a lot shakier than you the first time circumstances arise where they are forced to kill someone on duty.”

 

“I understand why you’re worried,” John admitted, still tense. “All I can tell you is that I feel as stable as I can be, given the situation. Of course I wish there had been another option than to kill that man but if I hadn’t acted the way I did he would have undoubtedly shot Bane in the back with Bane taking the line of fire. I couldn’t allow that to happen and while I hate taking away people’s second chances, I still feel I made the right decision.”

 

“I agree,” Gordon said, reaching forward to pick up one of the files from his desk and open it in his lap as he sat back in the chair. “Although it was regrettable, the man didn’t leave you any other option. I’m just surprised you’re so calm.”

 

“I tried to not dwell on it over the weekend,” John explained. “Bane and I talked about it, as well as some other things and I felt a lot better after that. Then we kept busy the whole weekend. By the time I woke up this morning I felt centered again.”

 

Gordon’s sharp eyes looked back and forth between John and Bane, studying them. Bane silently worried that they were giving something away; that they were sitting too close or their bodies were turned towards each other. He didn’t know what he could do to look less suspicious even though Gordon was considering them critically. But whatever assumption Gordon landed with, it didn’t seem to upset him. “It’s nice to see a supervisor/correctee relationship working out so well.”

 

Bane purposefully stopped himself from stealing a sidelong glance with John. He wasn’t going to underestimate the intelligence of the Police Commissioner. Bane didn’t know if it was against policy for employees in the police force to date but he wasn’t going to risk bringing their relationship to Gordon’s attention unnecessarily.

 

“Speaking of supervisors and correctees...” Gordon trailed off to open up one of the drawers in his desk and pull out a sheet of paper, holding it out to both of them at once. “You should both have a read over that.”

 

Bane was confused, both by Gordon’s words and by the smile on John’s face as blinding as the sun. John motioned for Bane to take the sheet and Bane grabbed it hesitantly, reading over the few paragraphs of text. It only took a few sentences before he had an idea of what it was about, and realized he was holding a legal contract in his hand. Bane’s hand began to shake, the paper quivering in his grasp, and he looked up to John sharply.

 

“What is this?”

 

“John called me on Friday,” Gordon spoke up, catching Bane’s attention both with his voice and the sudden shift from ‘Officer Blake’ to ‘John’; this sounded more personal and friendly. Bane remembered John mentioning that he had to make a quick call on Friday before they went to the zoo and Bane looked back to John; his supervisor, his friend... his boyfriend. John smiled sheepishly as Gordon started talking again. “He requested that with your act of bravery in protecting an officer of the law, we make a change to your correctee contract. And I agreed.”

 

Bane looked down again. It was all drafted up. This could be added to the criminal correction program contract to negate Bane’s requirement to wear his mask in public. The collar would remain but those were almost commonplace to people now, whereas the mask was formidable and scary to many people. It also meant Bane could go out to a restaurant with John and his friends, and walk down the street without everyone knowing he had a life sentence.

 

“On Friday I went around the station since those you work with closely need to be informed and comfortable with the decision. A few needed a bit of convincing,” Gordon gave a cheeky smile. “But they all agreed in the end. All it needs now is signatures.”

 

Bane’s eyes hovered at the bottom of the page, looking at the three signature lines. Supervisor, Correctee, and Witness. Bane looked to the Commissioner again, awed that Gordon would do something like this for him, and back to John, who Bane wanted to thank by kissing him until he saw stars. John encouragingly pressed a pen into one of Bane’s hands and Bane focused on reading the whole contract thoroughly to ensure this wasn’t a joke. He still couldn’t quite stop his heart from racing even as he found a clear spot on the desk and signed his name.

 

John signed the sheet next and Gordon finished up, handing the sheet back to Bane to look over. He took in the three unique signatures on the bottom of the page, still disbelieving that he could be lucky enough to have people like John and even Gordon in his life. As he stared at the contract signing him into a new scrap of freedom Bane heard a quiet _beep_ and _click_ and then John’s warm hands were on him, carefully lifting away the mask.

 

Bane felt a rush of self-consciousness for a moment when his mask was fully removed and in John’s hands, Gordon watching and smiling. There weren’t many people in the last seven years who had actually seen Bane’s bare face and he suddenly felt unsure. John was there though, touching his wrist and sharing reassurance, and slowly Bane’s hand fell away from his mouth, exposing his face for anyone to see.

 

John’s hand lingered and Bane refused to knock it off. Gordon’s gaze was knowing but accepting, and Bane settled back into his chair. “Now that that’s sorted I have some less good news.” John withdrew his touch and they both sobered immediately, preparing themselves for the worst. “We questioned the man who attacked you and apparently he’s the older brother of the brother and sister who attacked you and twisted your ankle a few weeks ago.”

 

John sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while Bane’s chest tightened with worry and anger. This whole mess had started out with John trying to give someone a second chance that they were too stupid to take; how far would they push this? “I can’t believe they went to such lengths. I was going to let her go and then her brother just jumped to conclusions.”

 

“Which is one of the biggest problems we’re dealing with these days,” the Commissioner suddenly looked tired. “People are so distrusting of us that they won’t let us help them. They don’t trust us to help so crimes go unreported, and then when we stumble on a situation we’re seen as intruding. In search of some safety and protection gangs are expanding and growing rampant. And in return cops become frustrated with citizens and overly vigilant for suspicious behaviour, which is why the number of people getting arrested for petty crimes is rising.” Gordon drummed his fingers on the desk in agitation. “It’s all such a mess.”

 

Bane had known that there were issues; there were _always_ issues in society. And he knew that the criminal correction program had not been without its serious flaws. But it was shocking to hear just how interconnected everything was, and how one simple policy and program change could send so many damaging ripples into the routine of daily life.

 

“Is there any further threat from the family?” Bane asked, considering Gordon’s word about gangs.

 

“They’re not associated with any gangs that we know of,” Gordon said, looking through a few documents that probably held detailed information from their questioning period with the man who was still alive after the attack. “The man who died was a friend, and it didn’t seem like they had any other close family so there shouldn’t be any further threats.”

 

“That’s a relief,” John said, stretching out his formerly-injured leg in what was likely an unconscious action.

 

Gordon sat back in his chair with heavier shoulders. “Unfortunately there’s more bad news. Everyone is dragging their asses about getting a warrant for Minnie Taylor; no one wants to piss off her father since he has so much seniority.”

 

John and Bane shared a look. “We might actually have a solution for that,” Bane said.

 

“Tell me,” Gordon said immediately. “I’m willing to admit that we’re desperate. Everyone is worried about how much time we’re wasting on this. If Minnie is our killer then we need to stop her; if she isn’t then we need to shift our focus elsewhere.”

 

“We found out that Bane’s friend has been transferred to Blackcreek prison. We were going to visit him, maybe sometime this weekend,” John explained. “As long as it would pose no danger to him, Bane and I were thinking that we could ask him about some prison activity.”

 

Gordon was already shaking his head in the negative, waving away the idea. “We can’t risk that. If they have recording devices in the visiting area – which is likely – then we can’t have any mention about our suspicion of Minnie.” Gordon pursed his lips in thought, staring blankly into the far distance beyond John and Bane. “Maybe we could have your friend brought to the station where you could speak with him privately.”

 

“Only if it won’t cause a problem for him back in prison,” Bane insisted, unwilling to risk Barsad’s health and safety for anything.

 

“We take care of our own, Bane,” Gordon assured him strongly. “But would you be comfortable asking him this sort of information if I got him brought to the station? Can we trust him not to inform anyone at the prison?”

 

“He is my brother in all but genes,” Bane said, no doubt in his mind despite the years apart. There was a chance that Barsad would be upset with Bane for leaving him behind. There was also a chance that Barsad had withdrawn in on himself after Talia’s murder, losing most of his heart when hers stopped beating. But Bane would never assume that he couldn’t trust Barsad, or that his brother would betray him. “We can trust him, and as long as it doesn’t endanger him I will ask.”

 

Gordon stared at Bane, considering him. John was silent beside him. “Alright. This is our best option until that warrant goes through so we need to take advantage of this chance. Officer Blake, I want you to email me this friend’s information so I can get the process in motion, and I’ll inform you when I get something set up.”

 

“I’ll email it as soon as I’m back at my desk,” John said. He stood up from his chair and Bane followed suit, eyes lingering on his mask which was still in John’s hand. “Is there anything else, sir?”

 

“You’re scheduled for patrol this week. Do you feel able?”

 

“As long as I have Bane at my side,” John said seriously, catching Bane’s gaze.

 

Gordon looked them both over again and smiled. “I can’t blame you there. You’re dismissed.”

 

“And thank you again,” John held up the contract he had picked up to hold in the same hand as the discarded mask.

 

“It’s more than I ever thought I would receive in my lifetime,” Bane said, hoping his gratitude was audible in his voice.

 

“You deserve it, Bane,” Gordon told him. “I know many correctees just need a second chance; that was the original idea around the whole program before it went to hell. But I have to say that I’ve never met a correctee who has impressed me as much as you have. I feel safer having you here and watching over Officer Blake.”

 

John took a half-step closer to him. It could’ve been seen as a move towards the door but his body was angled towards Bane, radiating warmth. Bane looked to him and almost forgot that they were standing in the Commissioner’s office. He imagined how it would’ve felt to have his heart shatter if he had lost John on Thursday; if he hadn’t been there to help him. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

 

“Alright, that’s enough moon eyes,” Gordon teased, waving them to the door. “Blake, I expect that email by 10am so I can get started.”

 

“Can do,” John said, pushing Bane out the door in front of him and pulling the door closed behind them. They both walked towards the elevator side by side silently, though when they stopped to wait for the elevator to arrive their eyes met. As one they began to laugh, barely managing to stifle the sound with their hands until the elevator doors closed behind them. “So much for being discrete,” John shook his head, though he was grinning.

 

“He strikes me as the sort who won’t spread rumours,” Bane said. His laughter died down but happiness was still filling him up until he wondered if he might just float away. Bane took a step closer to John to crowd him against the wall of the empty elevator.

 

John’s laughter caught in his throat as colour filled his cheeks, though he pushed Bane away with an apologetic look. “There’s a camera,” John whispered. “And although I’m glad Gordon didn’t mind, I’m not comfortable telling the whole station yet.”

 

“Apologies,” Bane touched John’s arm for just a moment and then stepped back. “I just feel a little single-minded wanting to thank you for releasing me from my mask.” He looked down to the mask and contract again and then at John’s eyes. “You have given me so much to be thankful for.”

 

“I have just as much to thank you for,” John said. “But it’s not a matter of paying each other back. I wanted you to be free of the mask because you deserve more freedom than you’re given. And when you’re happy, I’m happy too.”

 

“You are wise,” Bane praised and John looked away shyly. Bane leaned a bit closer to whisper in John’s ear as the elevator neared their floor. “And I still plan on thanking you when we are home.”

 

He pulled away after that, giving John space as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. John’s lips were curled up at the corners, though as they stepped out of the elevator John said something Bane wasn’t expecting. “I like it when you call the apartment ‘home’.”

 

Bane hadn’t even considered the word choice. Sometime in the last little while as he had grown more comfortable in the apartment and with John, it had changed in his mind from ‘the apartment’ to ‘home’. It was a significant shift though; Bane hadn’t called anywhere home without a sarcastic undertone since he lived with his parents until the end of high school.

 

“That’s what it has become to me. And you also,” Bane said as they pushed through the crowd of people waiting to step into the elevator. He didn’t ramble on about specifics, aware of the multiple pairs of listening ears surrounding them as they made their way down the hall and wanting to respect John’s wishes in not announcing their relationship to every passer-by. It was easy to let the topic pass as they headed towards their desks, Bane noticing the sudden attention they were receiving. “Everyone is staring.”

 

“You sound surprised.” John was amused.

 

Bane touched a hand to his jaw, having forgotten already that his mask was gone and that people were seeing his true face for the first time. It must have been surprising for everyone at the station, accustomed to seeing Bane with his mask and now suddenly seeing his face. Bane would also worry that many of them were wary of him without his mask but knew they were likely just shocked and unfamiliar to the sight; after all, Gordon had said that everyone needed to agree to the mask being removed before it was allowed.

 

“But they _keep_ staring,” Bane muttered, turning his back to the officers sitting at the other desks in their office room as John and Bane made their way to their desks against the far wall. “It can’t be _that_ different seeing me without a mask.”

 

“They’re probably half shocked seeing you without a mask, period,” John said. “And half shocked at how good you look without it,” he whispered to Bane only when they were too far away for anyone else to overhear. “Attractive enough to turn a man gay.” Bane froze and looked over and John ducked his head in embarrassment at his own joke, though he met Bane’s eyes after a moment. “I mean that though,” John fidgeted with the cuff of his shirt after setting the mask and contract on his desk. “I wasn’t just going to suddenly be interested in any guy out of nowhere.”

 

Their voices were still hushed. Some of the other officers were still glancing over at them – Bane in particular – but they were far enough away for their conversation to be private. “You do realize how tempting you’re being, right?”

 

“Not intentionally,” John chuckled, sitting down at his desk before either of them could make a mistake.

 

Bane hovered for a moment longer and rested a hand on John’s shoulder, drawing his gaze. “In all seriousness, thank you.”

 

John rested his hand on top of Bane’s and beamed. “You’re welcome.”

 

#

 

As soon as they were in the apartment and the door was locked behind them, Bane crowded John against the wall. John’s eyes widened but he didn’t fight when Bane hooked his hands under John’s thighs and hoisted him up, pinning John in place against the wall as their lips met. John clutched at the back of Bane’s head and deepened the kiss, leaning into it like a man starved. It had only been one day of work where they couldn’t touch but ever since the mask had been removed Bane noticed John staring at him more, glancing away sheepishly whenever he was caught.

 

While the kiss continued John began to slip slightly, gravity trying to steal him away. Bane flattened John more fully against the wall with his own body and led John’s legs around his hips. John took the hint, digging his knees near-painfully against Bane’s sides and crossing his ankles for added support, both arms around Bane for extra stability.

 

With John’s legs spread around Bane’s body it was easy for Bane to press his hips forward, rubbing his clothed length against John, who moaned beautifully into Bane’s mouth and allowed him to swallow each sound greedily. Encouraged, Bane kept both hands on John’s hips and ground against him more insistently. It didn’t take long for both of them to harden, erections shoved together between their bodies as they began to rock.

 

Bane had had a more romantic idea in mind for thanking John but now that they were here he had no intention of stopping before they found their ending together. When John broke the kiss to gasp for breath, Bane ducked down and mouthed lightly at John’s neck with enough pressure for the teasing sensation that sent John’s heartbeat aflutter but not so much that John would walk into work with hickeys the next day.

 

“This is...new,” John panted, head back against the wall even as his hips continued to roll forward to meet Bane’s demanding thrusts. “Didn’t think I’d...like something like...this.” John laughed breathlessly but Bane felt a spark of worry in his belly and lifted his head, his hips momentarily pausing their rhythm. John whined at the loss of pressure against his trapped cock but must’ve seen the worry in Bane’s eyes because he cupped Bane’s cheek and kissed him softly. “I’ve just never seen myself as the sort of person to enjoy getting pinned against a wall by another man before.”

 

“I didn’t think.” Regret was evident in his voice as Bane’s fingers twitched, considering setting John back onto his feet. “I’m dominant. I didn’t consider what it would be like for you to suddenly be forced into the submissive role.”

 

“If you think you could force me then you’re crazy,” John whispered harshly, nipping and tugging on Bane’s ear hard enough that it stung. “And if you put me down now you’re in trouble.” Bane rested all of his weight against John, their cocks tight together and their bodies overheating with the most addicting passion. Immediately John moaned in pleasure and dragged his nails up Bane’s back, scraping the skin through the fabric of Bane’s sweaty shirt. “I never imagined myself this way,” John confessed, again winded by his desire. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m ready to come in my pants against you this instant.”

 

Recognizing the plea and demand beneath John’s conversational tone, Bane groaned deep in his chest and tightened his hold on John’s thighs. He wouldn’t be surprised if he saw ten little finger-shaped bruises lining John’s thighs that night as they slid into bed. Once his grip was secure Bane began rutting against John with abandon, certain to thrust their cocks together for added friction until they were both grunting with exertion and desperation.

 

When John came he sealed his lips over Bane’s, crying out into Bane’s mouth as his body tensed and arched away from the wall. On instinct John jolted forward a few times, seeking out the pleasure that would blind him as he spilled his seed in his pants. Bane could feel the sticky wetness of John’s pants against his own and fucked John right back against the wall, flattening him out as he searched for his end.

 

There was nowhere for him to go but Bane still curled around John as much as possible when he finally came, a few thrusts behind John and moaning loudly against John’s neck. John pulled Bane’s shirt free of his waistband and snuck his hands under the fabric, clutching at Bane’s sweaty back while Bane thrust against him harshly. Bane shivered at the touches as he creamed his underwear, his legs and arms shaking until he finally set John back on his feet.

 

John didn’t seem interested in moving away, his arms wound tight around Bane and keeping them latched together. “I could get used to this,” John chuckled as he rested his head on Bane’s shoulder. “We could even kiss in the car or at work when we’re comfortable,” John hugged Bane tighter. “Without the mask getting in the way.”

 

“There are other things we can do without the mask, in the car or otherwise,” Bane purred as he moved to his knees in front of John, who was blushing furiously. John watched Bane with dark eyes as Bane made quick work of undoing John’s pants and pulling them down around his thighs. John’s cock was mostly soft by now and coated in his orgasm but Bane could feel it twitch when Bane licked John clean, pleased to have his mouth and tongue free for this sort of teasing.

 

John whined loudly and finally pushed Bane away gently, his cock remaining flaccid due to his refractory period despite the obvious flush on John’s face and neck. Bane didn’t fight it, pleased to have made his point. And judging by the hungry look in John’s eyes, he wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea in future. “Lots to look forward to, it seems,” John said as he brushed a thumb against the corner of Bane’s mouth.

 

John’s thumb came away covered with one remaining glob of come and Bane sucked it into his mouth, cleaning John’s thumb and then kissing it before returning to his feet. “Certainly looks that way,” Bane agreed and kissed John solidly and lovingly.


	16. Chapter 16

Tuesday afternoon as they were packing up before heading home John received an email from Commissioner Gordon, informing them that Barsad would be arriving late that evening and kept in one of the holding cells. Bane would be meeting with him Wednesday morning when they came in for work before his and John’s patrol shift started after lunch. Gordon said that he wanted to speak with Bane about a few things beforehand, but assured Bane that he could speak to Barsad alone when he went in.

 

It was hard for Bane to eat dinner that night, queasy with nerves, and he didn’t even manage any food on Wednesday morning despite John shoving cereal and toast at him. He knew his empty stomach was doing nothing to settle him but the thought of eating left him sicker and he decided it was safer to just skip food until the meeting was over.

 

That was his plan, anyway, until they arrived at the police station and Bane felt a migraine borne from hunger and stress pushing warningly at his temples. It was around that time when John handed him a bagel from the station break room and Bane finally relented, munching on the bread and cheese and washing it down with water until he felt human again.

 

Bane still felt anxious even when his stomach was full; just knowing that his closest friend and brother was alive and in the same building as Bane had him pacing impatiently as they waited for Gordon to arrive and talk to them. It took John grabbing Bane’s wrist to stop his pacing and finally get Bane to settle at his desk. Bane considered grabbing a pen and fidgeting with it but John’s touch was steadying enough for Bane to regain control of himself and calm down.

 

John still watched him with concern, no doubt a little unnerved at suddenly seeing Bane going from tense and full of energy to sitting almost _too_ still and quiet at his desk. “Do you want to talk about it?” John offered.

 

Bane thought about saying no but didn’t think it was worthwhile to do so; Bane clearly wasn’t doing an amazing job of controlling himself and if anyone would listen and understand him, it would be John. “I fear he will reject me after I left him alone in prison for so long to do the program, even though he told me I could go.”

 

He kept his eyes on the desk and only looked up when John called his name quietly. “If the roles were reversed,” John said only when he was certain Bane was listening. “If he had left to do the program and you had been left in prison, how would you have felt?”

 

“Angry,” Bane confessed, imagining it. “We were the only family either of us had remaining. To be left in such a dangerous situation alone...” he took a deep breath in, held, released. Bane met John’s patient gaze again. “But I also would’ve felt hopeful that he could find a new life and move on.”

 

“And how would you feel if, years later, you were in that cell and Barsad walked in to see you again?” John prompted.

 

Bane didn’t even need to think about it. “Relieved, and curious. Maybe a bit awkward and nervous too. I would want to know what had been happening since we said goodbye, but people change over time and it’s been seven years for us.”

 

“This is your chance to catch up and get reacquainted,” John said, smiling encouragingly. “You won’t be on a time limit. The two of you can talk for as long as you want about anything and everything.”

 

“And if we’ve grown apart?” Bane wondered, imagining a horribly awkward silence ringing in the interrogation room they would be using. “If our bond cannot be rekindled?”

 

“Don’t give up hope yet,” John chided softly. “Are you really going to give up the chance of regaining your friendship just because it’s going to be awkward at first?”

 

“No.” Bane spoke resolutely and squared his shoulders. He was grateful to John for his words and patience. Bane had spent years with his emotions turned off, functioning only on impersonal calculations and logical actions. John’s presence and companionship had been what slowly turned Bane’s emotions back on, like flipping switches slowly but surely until every light was burning brightly. To Bane it was disarming, overwhelming and even disorienting, leaving him unsteady and out of control when all of his emotions swept around his mind at once.

 

Luckily he had John to act as a beacon, a lighthouse to lead Bane to the solid safety of shore after being buffered by the violent waves of his emotions. Bane didn’t have time to thank John before the office door opened and Commissioner Gordon walked towards their desks, though he figured John already knew how much he had helped. “Morning boys,” Gordon greeted. “Bane, you ready?”

 

His answer would have been very different if not for John. “Yes.”

 

“Good, good.” The Commissioner pulled over a chair from the vacant desk across the aisle from Bane and sat closer, lowering his voice slightly since the symbols case was still under wraps with their new lead being withheld from the majority of the police station. “Now Bane, you’re allowed to talk personally for as long as you want with Barsad. Talk to him about Minnie and use your discretion on how much he needs to know. If he has information we’ll record it to strengthen our request for a warrant. I doubt she’d let anyone in the prison get full proof but any knowledge of suspicious activity could really help.”

 

“I understand,” Bane said, taking in Gordon’s words and tucking them away to consider, but still more focused in this moment on simply being able to see his friend again. Now that John had helped Bane calm down Bane was becoming more eager, tired of waiting or delaying this any longer. “Can I see him now?”

 

Gordon nodded and stood, pushing the chair back to wheel towards the desk. “I’ll lead you to the room we have him set up in. We haven’t told him much, and you’ll be a surprise to him.”

 

Bane hesitated, wondering if he would be a good surprise or not, but John stood as well and put a hand on Bane’s shoulder. The touch was comforting but also a bit demanding, John pulling at Bane’s shoulder to encourage him into standing. Bane followed the lead and stood up slowly, focusing on taking deep breaths as the three of them rode the elevator down to a maze of hallways Bane was unfamiliar with.

 

They arrived at a small room with a tiny table against the back wall and two uncomfortable-looking chairs. The room was dark, lit up only through the one-way window looking in on the interrogation room that was white and brightly lit up. “We have the recording system shut down so whatever you say in the room won’t be recorded. We will still be able to hear you though,” Gordon explained as he closed the door to the hallway. “I do have to stay in this room while you talk to him. Sorry, policy.”

 

“It’s alright,” Bane said even though the thought made him slightly uncomfortable. He didn’t mind John being in the room watching them since Bane had already told him all of the dark nooks and crannies of his past, while Gordon was relatively unaware. Bane didn’t care enough to argue the point. All of his attention had shifted to the interrogation room where he could see Barsad sitting on the side of the table facing the one-way window.

 

Barsad looked... _tired_ , horribly so. His hair was matted and longer than Bane remembered, and the scruff on his jaw was a bit uneven; from where Bane was standing he could see a scar on the right side of Barsad’s jaw where no hair was growing that hadn’t existed seven years ago. There were dark circles under his eyes and a tense clench to his teeth, though the rest of Barsad’s body was deceivingly relaxed. It was foolish to show fear and weakness in prison culture; by now Barsad must’ve learned to hide all of those emotions away.

 

Bane felt his heart clench painfully. He knew prison wasn’t a good place to be, but it was another matter entirely to see how worn down his best friend had become. Perhaps Barsad would be less tired if he had had Bane watching his back, sharing the burden of staying alive in such a world as prison life. It was too late for ‘ifs’ and ‘maybes’ but it didn’t stop Bane’s mind from considering future options.

 

“Can I go in?” he asked without looking away from the window.

 

“Whenever you’re ready.”

 

Bane moved immediately without hesitation as he pulled open the door. Barsad looked up slowly, his jaw tight and his eyes steely, ready to ward off whatever questioning he had been brought in for. Even when Barsad saw Bane as the door closed he didn’t change his expression at first, firing up a bolt of panic inside Bane at the thought that it was too late, that he couldn’t win his friend back.

 

Then came shock and recognition, Barsad’s jaw going slack as his eyes widened. “Antonio,” he croaked as he stood hesitantly, one hand clutching the table like he didn’t trust his legs to hold him up. Barsad was looking at Bane like he saw a ghost, which Bane supposed was an understandable reaction considering they hadn’t talked in seven years and Barsad had been told nothing when being brought to the police station. Hell, it had been so long that Barsad still called Bane by his birth name; a jarring experience now.

 

“Brother,” Bane said in return, stepping closer. Barsad’s eyes widened further, his mouth parting slightly though he said and did nothing to halt Bane’s approach. Bane moved around the table until he stood directly in front of Barsad and then held his right arm out at a ninety degree angle with his inner arm facing Barsad vulnerably and his hand clenched into a fist.

 

To Bane’s relief Barsad didn’t waver. He lifted his left arm to mirror Bane in a salute they had created back in high school, Bane, Barsad and Talia together. Barsad pressed his forearm against Bane’s, their curled fists knocking together as they both set their weight forward. With their weight angled forward they held each other up where they touched at the forearm and fist. Then they unclenched their fists – Bane never knew who initiated it; it always just happened in sync– and clasped hands. They held so tightly that Bane’s fingers ached but in that moment he wouldn’t let go for anything.

 

It was a salute they had never been able to do in public while in prison for obvious reasons. Doing it now was somehow both haunting and comforting. It assured Bane that Barsad was back in his life, but it made Bane painfully aware of the fact that there was a piece of him _missing_. When it had been the three of them they would hold both arms up and create a triangle, all three leaning equal weight and supporting each other. Barsad was always on his right and Talia would be on his left, but when Bane lifted his gaze and glanced over he only saw the mirror.

 

Bane dropped his eyes to the floor again, to Barsad’s dirty pants and worn shoes. He knew John and Gordon were beyond that mirror and were watching them, and that John knew Bane well enough now to recognize the heart-wrenching anguish in his eyes. But Bane couldn’t think of them now, not as his throat was closing and the tears threatened to fall because Talia was gone and would never be coming back.

 

He had lost his friend and sister twelve years ago and it still cut just as deep as it had the first night Bane had spent in jail beside Barsad before their trial. The first morning Bane woke up and realized that hours had already passed since Talia had been taken from them. Bane was still furious that the world insisted on continuing to spin, that it could be so uncaring about the death of such an incredible woman, and of Bane’s and Barsad’s suffering.

 

Bane had wanted time to freeze. He didn’t want to wake up each morning and know that he had lived another day without Talia. His heart had been left bleeding at the foot of the table turned into Talia’s final resting place but Bane’s traitorous body struggled on anyway. It seemed so unfair to lose someone so precious and be expected to keep going, to someday be alright. The thought brought back Bane’s memory of John explaining how his foster family had been understanding... until they _weren’t_. And then Bane’s heart clenched tighter for the tragedies and injustices so many good people faced.

 

It all seemed too painful to continue on, to live in a world with so much sorrow and loss. How could he live without Talia? How had he managed _twelve years_ without her, and _seven_ without his other closest ally against the callousness of the world?

 

“It’s good to see you again, brother.”

 

The words sparked something inside Bane, physically jolting him. It felt like his heart had been taken from the bloody ground at the base of the table and shocked into beating anew. It was still in pieces but Bane realized that John had been patiently and lovingly sewing the jagged edges back together so that they would no longer dig into him, reopening old wounds. And now with Barsad here a piece that had been left behind was returned, carefully slotting back into place.

 

There would always be a piece missing; Bane had willingly let Talia take it with her because a part of him would always be with Talia, and Talia with him. She had been an essential part of his life and Bane would never lose her from his memories. But the ache was bearable, his heart strong enough to continue on with John’s dedicated care. Bane had a lot to live for now, a light in his life that he cherished beyond all.

 

Bane turned his head and sent John a watery smile through the mirror, feeling John’s love even if Bane couldn’t see his face. Then he turned back and pressed his forehead against Barsad’s forehead, clutching at Barsad’s hand even tighter. “It’s good to see you too.”

 

Eventually they parted, though they lingered. Bane grabbed his designated chair and moved it to the same side of the table as Barsad, not wanting anything between them. Barsad sent a guarded look to the mirror, which Bane knew Barsad could tell was a one-way mirror, and then back to Bane. “Antonio, what’s going on?”

 

“Call me Bane,” Bane requested, explaining when he saw Barsad’s eyebrows furrow with confusion and distaste. “A lot has happened since we parted, my friend. Bane is the name I use now.”

 

“That’s the name you picked for yourself,” Barsad said, deadpan.

 

“Actually one of my supervisors that I hated, Minnie Taylor,” Bane saw Barsad’s eyes sharpen with recognition, though he didn’t interrupt, “gave it to me. She called me the bane of her existence and the name stuck.”

 

Barsad sent another cautious glare at the mirror. “And you still have a supervisor horrible enough to force that name on you?”

 

Bane looked directly at the mirror, knowing John could hear them and was probably riddled with guilt at Barsad’s words. “I know it should bother me,” he said to John and Barsad both, “but I’m not Antonio anymore. I haven’t been the same man since Talia died.” He glanced back to Barsad but continued to speak to John, because it was important for John to hear this and to believe him. “Bane is who I am now. Not the bane of existence but a man who has endured loss and abuse and come out stronger.”

 

Barsad looked to the mirror as well, calculative, and then to Bane. “I understand. Antonio must take you back to our years in school. I myself still find my thoughts drifting back more than they should, lost in old memories.” Barsad sighed and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Bane wanted to ask about prison and tell Barsad everything about his own life as well but Barsad needed answers first. “So tell me... Bane,” Barsad tested out the name. “Why are we both here?”

 

Bane had hoped to reconnect with his friend first and discuss the Minnie issue later. But it seemed that Bane had worried needlessly about Barsad rejecting him; they were already speaking as they once had, like no time had passed since they last talked. It was relieving and left Bane willing to discuss business first and converse more personally later on. “I work for the police now,” he started.

 

Barsad raised both eyebrows in surprise. “After everything?”

 

Bane knew what Barsad was thinking, remembering the night of Talia’s death. Police had a rule that someone had to be missing for at least twenty-four hours before they were officially deemed ‘missing’ and the police would begin their search. If they had waited twenty-four hours from the time Talia had gone missing she would’ve not only been violated and dead, but it was entirely likely that her attackers would’ve managed to clean up, dispose of the body and run. Bane and Barsad, and Talia’s family would have never received any answers, left with a gaping hole in their hearts and endless questions.

 

Of course, the police were quick to arrest Bane and Barsad as soon as they arrived on the scene.

 

“After everything, yes,” Bane said quietly, looking at the table now instead of the mirror. “I didn’t want to at first even though my new supervisor works here. But then I realized that I could try to make a difference. I’ve been helping with some cases and going on patrol with my supervisor.”

 

“Does this supervisor have a name?” Barsad’s expression was a knowing one.

 

“John,” Bane offered but said no more, well aware of both John and Gordon listening in the other room.

 

Thankfully Barsad said nothing more on the matter, though he was obviously surprised and curious. Bane wondered just how much Barsad assumed about him and John, and how much Bane was giving away in his voice. Barsad quietly studied Bane for a few moments, tapping one finger on the edge of the table as he thought. “Alright, that explains you. But why am I here?”

 

“There’s a case I’m working on. You probably haven’t heard in prison but there’s a serial killer on the loose who carves unknown symbols into their victims’ skin.” That was all public knowledge and safe to tell. Anything else Bane said had to be considered carefully, especially if he wanted to keep Barsad safe and uninvolved. But already Barsad looked intrigued and focused, never one to back down from a challenge. “I happened to be looking at the symbols and the writing style reminded me of the style Minnie Taylor had when I was her correctee almost a year ago. I was going to visit you anyway to reconnect,” Bane assured, “but we also wondered if you had seen any suspicious activity from Minnie the last few months.”

 

“I can’t believe we were actually at the same prison while Minnie was your supervisor and we never even saw each other,” Barsad pursed his lips sadly.

 

Bane felt the same, like they had been robbed. “I wish I had known sooner, though Minnie never let me go near the prison itself anyway. I only found out when John looked up your current location so we could plan a visit.”

 

“I guess we can talk now before I’m sent back,” Barsad smiled wryly, showing that there was still a sense of betrayal beneath Barsad’s skin even though it was clear he was also happy to see Bane again.

 

Bane could tell Barsad was stalling, avoiding the topic of Minnie and her activities, no doubt aware of how much potential trouble Barsad could get himself into if he reported to the police and Minnie found out before the police could act. Prisons were like another world, with different rules and justice. No one would cry over a dead inmate, or even be particularly surprised. Barsad could simply disappear if he was causing problems and no one would ask questions.

 

Understanding this and not wanting to pressure his friend, Bane instead addressed Barsad’s words. “You don’t have to go back. The program is still running.”

 

Barsad scoffed. “Are you going to tell me how wonderful your last seven years were?”

 

Bane struggled to not get defensive. “Of course not. Some of my supervisors were the shittiest people I’ve ever met. But they weren’t all bad and John is great. We could get you assigned to someone who actually believes in the program and just wants to help.” Bane thought of Bruce, wondering if he would be willing to take on another correctee.

 

“You mean someone who just wants to exploit my situation for extra money,” Barsad said.

 

Bane took a deep breath in and out, maintaining patience. “I know you’ve been alone and you’ve fallen out of the habit of trusting anyone.”

 

“You don’t understand,” Barsad muttered, not meeting Bane’s eye. “You were in prison but we watched each other’s backs. You don’t know what it’s like when your only friend disappears and you’re left alone to watch your back and keep yourself alive.” Barsad dragged his fingers through his matted hair. “I haven’t made friends in prison.”

 

Bane was silent for a long moment, newly sick with guilt and worry. “I’m sorry I left you.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“Of course!” Bane’s shoulders tensed. “I wanted you to come with me! I wanted us both to have a second chance. But you insisted you weren’t ready and that you never would be so I should go. You gave me your blessing.”

 

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to go!” Barsad hissed, eyes on the floor. “You and Talia were all I had and then you left me behind.” Barsad dropped his face into his hands, back bowing. “It’s been twelve years and I don’t know how to move on. There’s nothing to live for.”

 

Bane rested a heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder, wishing he could extract Barsad’s pain through their touch. Barsad tensed at the contact – wary from his years in prison – but didn’t pull away. He wasn’t crying but Bane could hear the raggedness of Barsad’s breathing. “Prison isn’t the place to find something to live for,” he said. “Yes, I went through years of abuse in the program. But I’ve found something to live for now...” through the mirror Bane could _feel_ John’s eyes. “And we could help you find a _good_ supervisor.”

 

“How is someone who would essentially _own_ me _possibly_ give me something to live for?” Barsad grumbled, though he still hadn’t shrugged off Bane’s hand.

 

“If you find the right person the contract is on paper only,” Bane explained, thinking back to his months with John, and his more recent few days completely free of his mask. “John has always treated me as an equal, and has made me feel welcome. From the beginning we shared chores like roommates and he let me choose work in my own time.”

 

Barsad finally lifted his head to regard Bane, his eyes trailing down to Bane’s neck. “You speak like this...with a collar around your neck.”

 

Bane touched a hand to his collar, feeling the material warmed by his skin. “Would you believe me if I told you I forget about it most days?” Barsad’s expression answered for him, horribly sceptical. “I used to have to wear a mask in public too, but John just got the contract legally changed so I don’t have to wear it any longer.” Barsad looked surprised when he glanced over to the mirror, though he still seemed somewhat unconvinced. Bane squeezed his shoulder tighter. “I think you will understand better if you meet him. Will you?”

 

Their eyes locked, many silent questions and answers passing between them in a few brief seconds. There must have been something in Bane’s expression at the thought of John, and of John and Barsad becoming acquainted, because Barsad’s face and body relaxed. “Of course I’ll meet him, if he’s that important to you.”

 

“Thank you,” Bane said on a deep exhale.

 

Barsad smiled fondly and Bane felt the tightness in his chest ease. Then Barsad turned somewhat serious again. “For now I think you should tell me more about this case because I’m sure the people on the other side of that mirror are getting impatient. You said you were wondering about any suspicious activity?”

 

“We know it’s very unlikely that Minnie would give herself away to the people in prison but we’re hoping there might be some lead we can follow,” Bane said. “It looks like the victims are drowned, and if Minnie is the one carving the symbols—” which had been deemed ‘very possible’ based on the graphologist’s study of her writing, “then she’d need someone with more weight to hold the victims down. So not just Minnie; has _anyone_ shown any suspicious behaviour?”

 

Barsad weathered his lower lip, though whether in thought or hesitance Bane didn’t know. Bane was still concerned about Barsad’s safety if he did insist on returning to prison, and he knew Barsad must be aware of the potential danger as well of reporting on the prison warden’s daughter for such a large case. But Barsad, risks considered, still answered Bane. “You were in prison for a few years; you know how hard it is for prisoners to keep track of one another. People mysteriously disappear or get transferred without a hint all the time.”

 

“I know,” Bane sighed, having expected this issue.

 

“And it’s gotten worse since you’ve left,” Barsad added. “The program cleared out the majority of prisoners and stopped overcrowding; that part of the propaganda was true. At least for a little while.” Their eyes met. “Once the program started, those who remained in prison were either too dangerous to be let back into society even if they applied for the program, or too antisocial and hateful to want to rejoin society.”

 

Barsad scoffed quietly and shook his head, perhaps at his own choice to stay. “Then the government threatened to shut down some of the prisons since they weren’t needed and everyone who makes a livelihood off running prisons were up in arms, not wanting to lose their jobs and saying they never asked for this. So there comes a push for cops,” Barsad pointed at the mirror, “to get tougher on crime. They had no excuse of ‘nowhere to send criminals’ so they were supposed to crack down. And do you know how that panned out?”

 

“Not well, I presume.”

 

Barsad laughed humourlessly. “Not well,” he echoed. “Because now you have the very worst criminals mixed with these young innocent _kids_ who have been thrown in jail for single and non-serious offenses in the grand scheme of things. And there’s nothing to average them out. Dynamics in prison have become even more cutthroat; you’re either a violent lifer or a stupid kid still wet behind the ears. The worst part is that the legal system _wants_ it this way.”

 

“So that the new offenders choose the program and become correctees over risking the dangers of prison,” Bane concluded.

 

“The legal system doesn’t care if a few first-time offenders get beaten up or killed. Weed out a few but otherwise they have a streamlined output of slaves just _eager_ and work for society if it means not getting murdered in prison,” Barsad’s voice was bitter, hardened by years of seeing this cycle develop and solidify. “So to answer your question, I don’t have a fucking clue which of the prisoners going missing could be related to this case.”

 

Bane felt himself deflate; although he knew it was a long shot he had hoped that Barsad might hold some valuable information they could work with even without a warrant. “Thanks anyway.”

 

“Well hang on. Don’t give up quite yet,” Barsad waved him off a bit impatiently. “Just because I don’t know about _missing_ prisoners doesn’t mean I don’t know about unusual activity. There’s this prisoner named Rodi, not the brightest bulb but massive and strong; having him attack you is like fighting a mountain. Anyway, over the last few months Minnie has been personally signing him out to do some extra work for her.”

 

“Extra work,” Bane raised an eyebrow, trying to avoid becoming too excited in case this didn’t pan out.

 

Barsad shrugged. “We always thought she had just taken a fancy to him and couldn’t find a good fuck elsewhere. To remind you before you get your hopes up, that could still be the case,” Barsad warned. “All I know is that when Minnie or anyone else signs out a prisoner for ‘extra work’ it has to be documented. You could cross-reference that with whenever you found these victims and see if you can find any patterns.”

 

Bane looked to the mirror, wondering what Gordon and John thought of this. “Barsad,” Bane took a deep breath. “Would you be willing to go on record with this? I still want you to consider your option of us finding you a good supervisor but if you insist on going back, I won’t risk your safety.”

 

Barsad gave him a sad smile. “We watched over each other once. I would like for that to be true again.”

 

“As would I,” Bane allowed his relief to seep into his voice. “I’ll be right back?”

 

Barsad nodded his understanding but caught Bane’s arm when he began to stand. “You and I will talk more when we’re not in a fishbowl, yes?”

 

“Absolutely.” Bane waited for Barsad to slowly release his hold before walking to the door and exiting the room. Gordon and John were both there in the darkened room, staring at Bane when the door closed behind him. Gordon looked thoughtful while John looked like he was internally warring between relief and concern. Bane wanted to go to John and hold him close, already feeling emotionally worn out, but told himself to remain professional for at least a little longer. “Can we use that?” he asked Gordon.

 

“I never knew prisons had gotten so out of hand,” Gordon murmured, finger pressed against his lips as he thought. “When this case is over I would like to begin a public inquiry; perhaps get testimonies from other prisoners to back up Barsad’s and add more pressure to get this looked at. But for now we must focus on the task at hand,” Gordon looked to Bane. “We can definitely look into this. First we’ll need to get him on record so we can explain any digging we do, and then we can see where it leads. Though I’ll need to be the one interviewing him when he goes on record.”

 

Bane was nervous at the thought but knew he couldn’t argue much with policy. “He probably won’t be happy about it.”

 

“I know, but I’d like to speak with him anyway,” Gordon said. “I’ve already looked into both of your case files, yours before we hired you and Barsad’s before we brought him here. Based on what I know I would be interested in offering to be Barsad’s supervisor.”

 

Shocked, Bane looked from Gordon to John. “I was actually thinking we could ask Bruce if he would be willing to take on a new correctee,” he suggested, though uncertainly. “Without presuming his interest.”

 

John seemed to understand his hesitance. “I think it’s worth asking Bruce, at least. He has the means to support another correctee if it’s something he and Barsad could both agree on.” There were a lot of emotions in John’s eyes, no doubt from everything he had heard during Bane and Barsad’s conversation, but they saved those conversations for later.

 

“That’s an option, but I would like to offer as well,” Gordon said. Bane was still surprised and knew that it was very likely that Barsad would reject the idea, but he wasn’t going to argue if the Commissioner wanted to make the offer. When no one said anything Gordon moved to one of the cabinets in the corner and pulled out a recording device and a microphone. “We’ll set the sound system to record but I always like to have a spare copy to avoid any issues,” Gordon explained almost jovially, as though the threat of destroyed evidence was nothing but an interesting challenge to overcome. “Shall we?”

 

“I can join?” Bane asked.

 

“We’ll have the sound system recording as soon as we go in,” Gordon said, standing beside a selection of buttons on the wall by the door and clicking one on. “And you can be there during that time. But I’d like for it to just be me and Barsad when I use my recording device,” he held up the box and the microphone. “Just so no one can argue any influence or interference in Barsad’s answers. John, I would prefer if you stayed here to ensure no one else comes in.”

 

John nodded and met Bane’s look. “I can meet him after,” John promised.

 

“Alright.” Bane was the first one to enter the room with Gordon behind him, carrying the recording device with him and setting it and the microphone on the table. Barsad had been tense before but as soon as he saw Gordon’s uniform he stiffened further, eyes tracking him in the room. “Barsad, this is Commissioner Gordon.”

 

Distrust was evident in Barsad’s eyes until he looked from Gordon to Bane, relaxing slightly with Bane’s presence. “Barsad, it’s good to meet you,” Gordon offered a hand and didn’t seem too ruffled when Barsad made no move to shake his hand in greeting. He easily dropped his hand back to his side and moved around the table, keeping his posture non-threatening as he picked up the chair Bane had sat in and moved it back across the table. “Before we begin I would like to discuss another matter with you.”

 

Barsad looked again to Bane for some clue and then back to Gordon as he sat down. “And what matter would that be?”

 

“Bane mentioned the possibility of becoming a correctee to you and I would like to make an offer to be your supervisor,” Gordon explained. Barsad stared at him, saying nothing. Undeterred, Gordon pressed on. “I had a chance to read over your file before transferring you here, and I agree with Bane. I think you would do well out of prison, and I would be willing to give you that chance.”

 

The look Barsad gave Bane was a clear ‘ _is he serious?_ ’ Bane couldn’t decide whether to be amused or nervous, choosing just to nod and let Barsad make the decision for himself. Barsad stared at Gordon for a long time, assessing him critically as Gordon got settled and set up the recording device on the table with precise, unbothered movements. Bane was glad that Gordon didn’t try to rush Barsad’s decision, likely aware that Barsad wouldn’t react well to pressure from someone in the police force.

 

“Thank you,” Barsad said eventually, impressing Bane with his diplomacy despite the obvious underlying distaste. “But absolutely not. I will never work for a cop.”

 

“You wouldn’t have to work at the station,” Gordon reminded him, voice even as he finished setting up the microphone and sat back in his chair. “Bane is here because he chose the position.”

 

Barsad’s voice was just as controlled but the way he leaned forward in his chair was distinctly aggressive. “I will _never_ work for a cop. And you don’t need to worry about bribing me to talk. I agreed to help my friend; I don’t give a shit about the police’s quota on closing cases.”

 

To Gordon’s credit he only raised an eyebrow and rolled back his shoulders once in response, shrugging off the threatening tone. Then he somehow managed to smile, friendly. “My offer was not meant as a bribe but I accept your choice. Shall we get on with business? Bane, you can leave us now.”

 

Barsad looked to Bane one last time, who gave his friend an encouraging nod before turning and leaving the room. Through the sound system he could hear Gordon asking specific questions and Barsad answering, covering everything he had said to Bane but more formally. Bane stood by the window and watched, reading the clear discomfort in Barsad’s body as he answered each question. John stood beside him, their arms brushing but otherwise maintaining a professional manner.

 

“How are you?” John asked quietly while Gordon tried to glean more information out of Barsad regarding Minnie, Rodi and prison life.

 

“I don’t know,” Bane said, not looking away from the window. “For years I’ve lived without allowing my emotions to surface, so now that I’ve met you and turned them all back on it’s a bit overwhelming. Especially since Barsad brings up many emotions and memories for me. He is the closest link I now have to Talia. We both are, to each other.”

 

“Talking about it may help,” John suggested, though he didn’t press the option.

 

Bane turned from the window briefly to bury his nose in John’s hair, nuzzling just above his temple for a moment. “Later?”

 

John tilted his head up slightly to lean into the caress. “Anytime,” John said. “Always.”

 

He pressed a soft kiss to John’s head and then looked back, watching as Gordon and Barsad finished up the short interview. Barsad didn’t have any detailed information to offer in terms of the symbols case but it was enough that they could justify looking into the prison’s records on prisoners signed out for extra work. It was a long shot but at this point they were desperate.

 

Gordon thanked Barsad for his assistance as he packed up the recording equipment and then excused himself. Barsad continued to sit at the table, eyes on the mirror and staring just a little to the right of Bane. Gordon joined them in the dark room and clicked off the sound system and recording. “Thank you,” Gordon said to Bane, not commenting on the close proximity of his two employees. “And thank him again since he’ll listen to you,” Gordon nodded back towards the interrogation room. “Even if this turns out to be a dead end I still appreciate the help.”

 

“I will be thanking him as well,” Bane said, still watching Barsad’s eyes hover around Bane’s shoulder. His throat was tight when he tried to swallow. “How long do I have left with him?”

 

“I’m keeping him here overnight at the very least. I can probably stretch it another day or two but no more; the longer we keep him before sending him back the more questions we’ll get,” Gordon said, moving to stand beside Bane and also gaze through the window. “I would be happy if you managed to change his mind and found another potential supervisor.”

 

“I don’t understand why you’re so invested,” Bane’s voice rose with an unspoken question.

 

“I think it’s because the memory of that day at Mister Innas’ factory still haunts me.” This time it seemed that Gordon was purposefully fighting to not look at Bane or John directly. “Watching you get whipped, and acknowledging that in a group of Gotham’s _finest_ ,” the word was sharp and bitter, “ _myself_ included, only John was willing to run and defend you. Even afterward, he carried you and we merely stood by.”

 

“Gordon...” John began.

 

“Don’t,” Gordon cut him off. “There’s no excuse for it. I could have led as an example and I didn’t. It made me realize how comfortable and lazy I’ve become in my position of power, and that ends now.” Gordon huffed in frustration and then seemed to compose himself, smoothing down his shirt and fidgeting with the recording device in his hand. “I’m going to get to work on this lead. I still expect you both to complete your patrol this afternoon but you’ve both been granted access to visit Barsad once he’s been moved. Two security guards will be in to escort him back to the holding cell in a few minutes so I’d recommend saving any conversation for later.”

 

Gordon parted with a brisk wave, leaving Bane and John alone to stare at each other in surprise. “I think that must’ve been building inside him for a while,” John said thoughtfully, glancing between Bane and the closed door. “I was definitely unimpressed with him that day but I didn’t realize he was still thinking about it. Either way...” John returned his gaze to the window. “I’m glad it’s bought Barsad some time. I’ll call Bruce on our lunch break.”

 

“I hope I wasn’t overstepping my boundaries in considering the option.”

 

“You weren’t,” John said. “Overstepping would be telling Barsad immediately that Bruce would take him. There’s no harm in asking, especially since Bruce was a good supervisor and has experience with the program.” John rested a little extra weight against Bane’s side, warming him in the cool room. “For now I think you should talk to him until the guards arrive. He looks anxious.”

 

“When will you meet him?” Bane asked, determined for his friend and boyfriend to meet.

 

“How about you go with the guards and spend time with Barsad while I call Bruce and help Gordon with the lead,” John nudged him slowly but surely towards the door. “And I’ll bring our lunches down to the holding cells so I can meet him then.”

 

“Not the ideal location,” Bane sighed, though he knew there was no way around the current situation.

 

“No, but hopefully this won’t be my only chance to get to know him,” John sent him a hopeful smile and caught Bane’s lips in a chaste kiss. “Now go. I doubt Barsad will be impressed if he’s alone when the guards burst in on him.”

 

Bane stole one last quick kiss and then entered the interrogation room, dragging the chair back around the table to sit beside Barsad who visibly relaxed at Bane’s return. “I thought I was going to meet John.” There was a teasing lilt to Barsad’s voice that pleased Bane, reminding him of simpler and more playful days.

 

Bane willingly smiled, both at the teasing and the thought of John and Barsad meeting. The idea was a bit nerve-wracking but it was also exciting and left him hopeful that Barsad might rejoin society and become a part of Bane’s life again. “You are going to meet him but guards are going to be coming to take you back to the holding cell in a minute and we figured that wasn’t the best time for introductions.” Barsad’s expression darkened. “I’m going with you and John is going to visit with lunch.”

 

“Oh, he’s going to bring you _lunch_ ,” Barsad smirked lightly.

 

To Bane’s utter horror he felt his cheeks heating up. “Why is it I wanted you back in my life?”

 

“Are you _blushing_?” Barsad gaped and laughed. “Are you and he—?”

 

“Yes,” Bane spoke over him, not wanting any more details divulged when the guards could arrive at any moment. “And you can shut up about it too. I never teased you when you told me about Talia.”

 

“No, you pinned me against a wall and scared the living shit out of me,” Barsad said, though he was still smiling. It was nice to see Barsad talking about Talia while smiling, and for Bane to be able to revisit old memories himself without feeling consumed by his loss. The moment was partially ruined when the two guards came into the room but Bane was happy to see that Barsad’s smile didn’t entirely vanish.

 

Barsad went with the guards willingly but only with Bane at his side, the guards handcuffing Barsad and then leading him out of the interrogation room. In the small observation room Bane noticed Barsad looking around and staring at John, giving a little tilt of his head before being led out into the hallway. Bane caught John’s eye and saw that John was blushing too, but looked pleased.

 

Bane had never been to the holding cells before and while he wasn’t entirely happy seeing Barsad behind bars at all, the small cell looked more comfortable and safer than Barsad would have in prison. The guards took off the handcuffs and got Barsad locked into his cell, the other three cells in the block currently empty and giving them some privacy.

 

Barsad massaged his wrists and then sat on the edge of the narrow bed, watching Bane who looked around and grabbed a chair to sit in front of Barsad’s cell. He got his back against the wall with just a few feet of space between him and the bars. It was a small room, which was surprising considering the crime rates of Gotham. Bane supposed that there must be more holding cells elsewhere that he wasn’t privy to.

 

“We certainly have a lot to catch up on,” Bane mused as he tried to think of a good topic to start with.

 

“Seven years,” Barsad agreed. “I nearly had a heart attack when I saw how massive you were. You were never that big, even in prison.”

 

“Manual labour will do that,” Bane grumbled.

 

Barsad lifted both eyebrows into his hairline. “We better get started. Though you should start with explaining how you ended up with John.”

 

“Why are you so interested?” Bane groaned.

 

Barsad rolled his eyes. “Because I haven’t seen you interested in anyone since that girl in freshman year and you broke that off a few weeks later. Honestly I thought you were asexual.”

 

“I’m just selective,” Bane said defensively. “And John is exactly who I needed and wanted. I have never felt like I belong the way I do when I’m with John.”

 

Bane was expecting more teasing but Barsad just blinked and watched him calmly, allowing him to continue. Bane took the opportunity to tell more of his story with John to catch up his friend. He glossed over the gruesome details of his previous supervisors, hoping he would have the chance to discuss his experiences further with Barsad later but unwilling to drop such heavy information on Barsad in case he insisted on returning to prison.

 

Instead Bane focused on talking about Nate and then John’s rescue. Without going into too much detail Bane talked about everything John had done for him, inviting Bane into his apartment and helping it become Bane’s home. At one point Bane realized he was rambling a bit but Barsad didn’t look bored and Bane didn’t know when he would have another chance to discuss these topics since John would be arriving soon.

 

When Bane’s story caught up to the present he sat back in his chair silently, waiting for a verdict. Barsad watched him for a long time silently, stroking at the scruff on his jaw. Then Barsad hummed in thought. “He sounds like a good guy, but I’ll have to ask him a question before I can approve him.”

 

“Can I at least know what question you’re going to ask him?” Bane said.

 

“No.”

 

Barsad smirked and Bane glowered. “Fine. Then you can tell me about your last few years in prison.”

 

Barsad’s amusement faded away at the topic change, and while Bane regretted taking away his friend’s fun, Bane had to know what Barsad had been experiencing. It was hard to stomach hearing some of the abuse Barsad had gone through, knowing Barsad would carry some scars on his skin and many more deeper inside him. Bane was encouraged that Barsad told him the stories without too much of a waver in his voice, demonstrating that he had not yet been broken, but it made Bane even more determined to persuade Barsad into joining the program.

 

Barsad was finishing up a story about his most recent bunkmate arriving – a young man who was arrested for selling drugs and, as Barsad described it, tried to drown himself with his own tears to avoid staying in prison – when John arrived. John shouldered the door open and offered a hesitant smile to Bane and then Barsad. “I hope I didn’t interrupt.”

 

Bane saw food in both of John’s hands and his stomach growled on cue, though he looked to Barsad before saying anything. Barsad had mentioned wanting to ask John a question and Bane was also slightly worried that Barsad wouldn’t appreciate having his time with Bane cut short by another visitor. Barsad offered up a charming, welcoming smile though. “Not at all. Though I do have a question for you.”

 

“Oh?” John raised an eyebrow, looking to Bane with nervous curiosity as he stepped further into the room and set the food on a small table in the corner.

 

“Bane, if you could kindly give us some time alone,” Barsad said, teasing again. Bane would’ve argued but he realized that this was probably the first entertainment Barsad had had in years. So with a quiet huff Bane stood from the chair and headed for the door.

 

He leaned against hallway wall but couldn’t hear anything beyond muffled voices. Bane was forced to imagine every possible question Barsad could be asking John, from innocent to horribly embarrassing. While John had not seemed terribly uncomfortable, Bane still worried that he might not appreciate whatever question Barsad had for him before he would be ‘approved’.

 

The time dragged in the empty hallway but luckily it wasn’t a long wait before John opened the door and glanced out looking for him. Bane looked up, taking a step closer and getting ready to ask what had happened or apologize if John looked angry. John had other plans, quickly wrapping his arms around Bane and kissing him deeply in the doorframe. Bane’s back fell against the metal framing with John’s intensity.

 

John pressed their lips together so tightly Bane wondered if they might end up bruised but couldn’t think of a reason to mind. He held John’s hips possessively and kissed him back until John finally pulled away, both of them breathing hard and a bit dizzy. “What was that for?” Bane wondered, very aware of the fact that they had an audience.

 

“I’m approved,” John said a bit cheekily, glowing with his smile. “I thought we should celebrate.”

 

Bane glanced over at Barsad, who wasn’t even bothering to give them any privacy as he smirked at the pair of them. “And what did he ask you?” Bane asked when he looked back.

 

John was blushing slightly but he looked proud and confident. “He asked me why I saved you instead of anyone else, and why I’ve done so much for you.”

 

“And…?” Bane prompted, nerves knotting in his stomach.

 

“Don’t tell him; let him wonder,” Barsad teased.

 

John didn’t even look away as he smiled wider. “There is no value to me in lying,” John spoke in response to Barsad and then took a deep breath. “I saved you because you needed saving and I could help. However, you have done just as much for me as you both think I have done for you.” John’s brown eyes held Bane’s gray ones. “For the first time since my parents died you have made me feel confident, at home, and truly cherished.”

 

Bane gently wrapped his arms tighter around John and held him, hugging him closer. Bane tucked his face against John’s neck and breathed in his scent, thinking back to all the time he had spent with John and everything they had shared. His lips parted with words he never thought he would want to tell someone, though Bane sealed his lips lightly on John’s neck to muffle the words momentarily. While Barsad was his closest friend, such a personal confession was still something Bane would prefer to share with John alone first.

 

John was hugging him right back, nose nudging against Bane’s collarbone. Bane would’ve been content standing there in the doorframe with John forever, locked in their embrace as time slowed to a crawl. The world insisted on continuing on at its regular pace unfortunately, their hug interrupted by Bane’s stomach growling as well as Barsad pretending to gag. “You two are sickeningly sweet.”

 

Bane lifted his head to respond, likely to tell Barsad off for ruining the moment, but Barsad’s expression gave him pause. Barsad was smiling warmly at them, genuinely happy for them for finding each other, but the smile was strained. Bane could see Barsad struggling to keep his lips curled up, the heavy weight of sadness fighting him as Barsad remembered his years with Talia and imagined the future they could have had together if things had turned out differently.

 

Feeling guilty at showing such happiness and affection in front of his friend who was still hurting, Bane slowly let John go and stepped away. John looked confused for a moment until he too looked over at Barsad, no doubt recognizing the war of a broken heart wishing happiness onto others. And somehow John made Bane even fonder of him when John extracted himself from Bane’s side and returned to the table, picking up the food he had brought with him and purposefully handing Barsad one of the three sandwiches through the bars. “I didn’t know what you like but I figure anything will be better than what the cops bring you.”

 

Barsad looked completely stunned, frozen for a moment before he took the sandwich from John’s hands. “You didn’t have to get this for me.”

 

“No,” John agreed. “But why wouldn’t I?”

 

Barsad had no response to this. His stomach answered for him, growling appreciatively. Barsad smiled sheepishly and sat back on the bed. “Thank you,” he said as he began unwrapping his sandwich.

 

Bane grabbed another chair from further down in the room while John took the chair Bane had already moved. When they were settled side by side and across from Barsad, John handed over Bane’s sandwich – ordered just the way he liked it – and unwrapped his own. For a few minutes the three of them ate in comfortable silence, Bane pleased to get food in his stomach now that he finally realized how hungry he had gotten during the morning stress.

 

Once they had all had a few bites they began to talk, sadness and guilt momentarily pushed aside by good food. John told Barsad more about himself since they hadn’t had any opportunity to talk before – Barsad busy questioning John’s motivations about Bane. For most of that conversation Bane remained quiet, allowing John to tell whatever stories he was comfortable with, knowing that despite John and Barsad’s acceptance of each other, they were still basic strangers.

 

To be frank, Bane and Barsad were almost strangers to each other as well. They had a bond that would never be broken – a friendship that surpassed the strength of the blood they spilled together. But seven years was still a long time to go without seeing or talking to someone. It was natural for people to change over time, especially when they had gone through such abusive situations as Bane and Barsad had endured together but apart.

 

Nonetheless, as they finished off their food, conversation grew. Barsad told them more about his time in prison and then moved on to happier topics, Barsad and Bane taking on the joint task of sharing more memories of their youth before the world betrayed their hopes and dreams. John sat quietly and listened, hearing stories Bane had either forgotten or had been too weak to revisit without Barsad there to share the heavy emotions paired with each memory.

 

All too soon John’s armband was ringing with an alarm. By now both John and Bane were accustomed to the routine of John setting the armband’s alarm and activating it to appease Bane’s collar and that’s all Bane assumed this was, opening his mouth to start up the conversation again. Except John’s hand slowly rested on Bane’s forearm and drew his attention, John looking apologetic. “Our patrol shift starts in fifteen minutes.”

 

Barsad’s shoulders drooped even though he attempted to plaster a nonchalant smile across his face. “Well I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

 

Bane looked up quickly, worried that his friend was assuming so quickly and easily that Bane would be using this opportunity to bail. “I’m coming back.”

 

“I can talk to Gordon,” John said, quietly but not in an attempt to hide his voice from Barsad. “I can pair up with Jeremy for one patrol.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Bane protested immediately. “We go together.” He looked back to Barsad, who was watching them with something akin to envy this time. “But I’ll be back,” Bane insisted, drawing Barsad’s attention back to the present. Their eyes held until Barsad nodded, acknowledging Bane’s promise.

 

Bane felt heavy as he stood but he refused to let John go out on patrol without him. He knew that John had been doing patrols for years before Bane had even met him and could clearly handle himself. But that didn’t mean Bane didn’t want to be there whenever he could, watching John’s back with the most genuine motivation to keep him safe.


	17. Chapter 17

With a wave to Barsad they cleaned up the wrappers from their lunch and headed for the locker room to change. Thankfully once Bane and John actually got into the police cruiser and started watching the streets Bane found it easier to focus on patrolling and worry less about Barsad. Yes, he still felt guilty leaving Barsad alone in a cell after they had had such a short amount of time to catch up. But out on the streets of Gotham it had already been proven that patrolling could potentially end up in a life or death situation. And while Bane felt bad for Barsad’s circumstances, Bane would never forgive himself if John was hurt or killed because Bane was distracted.

 

For the first thirty minutes John sent Bane a few careful looks, assessing his attention, but stopped quickly when he was certain of Bane’s focus. “You could’ve stayed,” John said at one point.

 

Bane looked over when he heard guilt sharpening John’s voice. “I made my choice,” Bane said, moving a little closer until their arms brushed as they continued to walk. “Barsad is safe where he is. Bored, but safe. And I would never be able to live with myself if I stayed back at the station and something happened to you.”

 

“You make me want to kiss you, right here,” John said under his breath, glancing around at the crowds moving en mass down the sidewalks.

 

The fact that John was even thinking of kissing Bane in front of a lot of people had Bane’s heart fluttering in a maddening way. He knew such a public display of affection would be a huge step for John considering the thought of being with a man was still new to John, on top of the fact that they had only recently expanded their relationship. John didn’t kiss him of course, maintaining a somewhat professional distance, but just the thought of it had Bane smiling.

 

Bane also found himself increasingly content as the hours of their patrol shift passed by. Any time Bane had gone out for patrol with his mask on everyone had given him a wide berth on the sidewalks, whispering behind their hands and sending him fearful glances before quickly walking away, trying to make it look like they weren’t running even though it was obvious. Bane had tried to not think about it too much since he had thought people would never see him any other way; he would always be a Lifer correctee with his collar and terrifying mask.

 

With the mask removed Bane had a completely different experience walking down the sidewalk beside John. While a few people still gave him extra room as they passed to factor in his large bulk, Bane never saw a single person flinching away from him or watching him with the obvious intention of bolting at the first sudden movement. A few eyes still lingered on his collar and massive frame but other eyes finally noticed the subtle police badge on his chest, and a few people even gave Bane and John polite smiles.

 

By the end of the patrol Bane couldn’t remember where the time had gone. It had been an uneventful patrol through the streets and one Bane might have otherwise felt to be a waste of time. Today it was impossible to regret going with John. The sudden acceptance on the streets without his mask made Bane feel like he had truly found a new life for himself, one where he fit and belonged. And whenever possible during the patrol John and Bane had also talked, more about Barsad and also other topics that came to mind, helping Bane feel steady and secure.

 

“I know you’re in a rush to get back to Barsad,” John said as they were changing back into street clothes in the locker room, Barsad just a few floors away. “But would you be willing to have dinner with me first?”

 

Bane looked from John to the door, conflicted. It was the right time for dinner and Bane was eager to go out to an actual restaurant with John. Before the mask was removed it had never been an option and Bane hadn’t even thought much about the idea of taking John out to dinner. It helped that John, Bruce and Selina always planned to eat at home where Bane could take off his mask and eat with them – something Bane only now considered might have been an intentional decision on their parts.

 

Now it was more than an option; John was asking Bane out to dinner right now... And Bane was going to say no. Bane grimaced and looked back, an apology already on his face. “I want to,” Bane said, words not enough to capture his desire whenever it was related to being with John in every way. “But I don’t think I’d be able to enjoy it the way I want to right now, thinking about Barsad.”

 

John rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes flicking away and back shyly. “How about we just get something fast and easy tonight and we’ll have a fancy dinner out when we can appreciate it more,” John suggested hesitantly. “I just want to make sure you get food before you come back to the station.”

 

Better understanding John’s intentions, Bane pressed John lightly against the lockers and kissed him softly. “That would be wonderful,” Bane said when their lips parted, and together they made their way back to the parking lot where John’s car waited.

 

Avoiding both fast-food and romantic dining restaurants, Bane and John ended up crammed together in a little booth in a pizzeria a few blocks away from the station. The seats were plastic and uncomfortable and the booth was so small that their knees kept knocking together, but the pizza was delicious and filling and the atmosphere was light and cheerful. It wasn’t the first dinner out in public Ban had pictured, but in some ways it far exceeded his imagination. Instead of candles and a violin playing in the distance they had a flickering florescent bulb over their heads and the muffled din of pop music from the speaker on the wall, but Bane and John talked and laughed until there were tears in their eyes and it was just perfect.

 

On their way out of the little shop John insisted on Bane driving, which caught Bane by surprise since John drove more frequently now that his ankle was healed. He didn’t argue as he slid behind the steering wheel, or when John leaned across the gap between their seats and sealed their lips together. The kiss tasted of tomato sauce and cheese and it made Bane smile as he returned the kiss. The tiny parking lot was dark and nearly deserted, John and Bane enjoying a few minutes to themselves before they sat back in their respective seats.

 

“You can just drop me at home,” John said as Bane started up the engine. Bane looked over at him in confusion. “Our shift is over and while I would like to talk with Barsad more at some point, now is the chance for the two of you to spend time together,” John explained. “If you drop me off and drive to the station then you can drive home whenever you’re ready.”

 

“How was I ever lucky enough to meet you?” Bane wondered aloud as he shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot, chuckling when John smacked his arm.

 

A few minutes away from their apartment building John’s phone began to ring. What proceeded was a series of hums from John as he shook his head, staring out through the windshield as his lips slowly curled upward and then a full smile broke out. Bane struggled to remain focused on the road, entranced by John’s grin and straining to hear the other side of the conversation even though John’s mobile was pressed tightly against his ear.

 

Bane was forced to sit silently until they reached the apartment building and Bane got the car parked and turned off. John glanced over at him, trying to look guilty but still grinning a bit madly as he continued to listen to the person talking on the other end of the phone. A minute later John finally nodded, still staring at Bane even though his focus was on the phone. “I’ll tell him. _Thank you_.”

 

As soon as the phone call ended John was leaning across the seat, arms winding tightly around Bane’s shoulders. Bane grunted at the force of John’s hug but held him in return, content to wait a few seconds longer for an explanation if this was the alternative. When John pulled back he still had a grin on his face, so wide that it must be painful. Bane lifted both hands and cradled John’s face in his palms, soothing his tight muscles into relaxing slightly. “Tell me.”

 

“Bruce agreed to take Barsad on as a correctee,” John spoke in a rush. “I called him before picking up the sandwiches at lunch but he wasn’t there so I left a message explaining everything – or at least everything he needed to know that I could fit into the voicemail – and told him to call me back.” Bane could feel John’s cheeks tightening again as he beamed and Bane had no intention of trying to wipe that smile away. “He just called me back and agreed to it, if Barsad wants to.”

 

Even the thought of trying to convince Barsad wasn’t enough to dampen Bane’s swelling happiness. He was so grateful to John for asking on Bane and Barsad’s behalf, and to Bruce for being willing to become a supervisor to a person he didn’t even know. “What else did he say?” Bane asked a bit breathlessly, thoughts racing with his building excitement.

 

“Bruce was telling me that he would prefer if Barsad could find some form of work in the company, but would be willing to discuss other options if there was something Barsad was keen on,” John said, still halfway across the car in Bane’s lap. “He also gave me information on some of his plans to proceed. Bruce won’t be available to meet with Barsad until next week – he has to fly out of state for a meeting – but he’s going to get one of his lawyers to contact the police on Friday, or whenever Barsad makes his decision.”

 

“I cannot thank you enough,” Bane whispered against John’s lips, thumb brushing John’s strong jaw. “How can I repay you for this chance? For everything?”

 

“Nothing needs to be repaid,” John told him, though Bane felt a wicked smile against his lips. “Not that I’d complain with you insisting. For now though...” John leaned back before they could get distracted. “You should probably head back to the station if you’re still planning to go.”

 

Both hands still cupping John’s face, Bane pulled him in for a soft tender kiss. It wasn’t as heated and demanding as he wanted it to be, knowing John was right but refusing to leave without a reminder of the taste of John’s mouth locked with his own. He only allowed John to pull back when they both needed to catch their breath, which was when Bane saw the clock on the dash and groaned; Barsad would definitely be wondering if Bane was coming back by now.

 

“Don’t wait up for me,” Bane slipped his fingers into John’s hair, tugging at the strands lightly. “I don’t know how late it’ll be when I come back.”

 

John kissed Bane one last time, gentle and chaste, and then retreated to step out of the car. John gave a little wave and Bane smiled before starting up the engine again and driving back out onto the streets. It wasn’t a long drive back to the station and the majority of the building was cleared out for the evening; only night staff, workaholics and those preparing for the night patrol shift still walked the halls.

 

Barsad was on his bed when Bane entered but lifted his head quickly at hearing the door opening and closing. Immediately Barsad sat up and moved to the foot of his bed, rubbing tiredness from his eyes as he watched Bane approach. “I was wondering if you really were coming back,” Barsad tried to joke but the underlying dread was evident.

 

“As promised,” Bane said. “We just grabbed dinner before I came back. Have you eaten?”

 

Barsad nodded unenthusiastically and stood to walk closer. Bane wanted to tell Barsad to sit and relax but knew Barsad was likely restless from being cooped up all day, every day behind bars. “The food here isn’t much better than what I get back at prison, but at least no one has tried to molest or kill me today, which is a pleasant change.”

 

Bane recognized his opportunity immediately. “On that note, I spoke to John who spoke to his friend. He’s had a correctee before so he’s accustomed to the situation, and he’s a really good supervisor. I’ve met him,” Bane said as he pulled a chair over to sit in front of Barsad’s holding cell, the other cells in the room still empty.

 

“I’m not ready to move on, Bane,” Barsad admitted tiredly, leaning against the bars. “I don’t know if I ever will be ready.”

 

Bane’s eyes skimmed over the bars holding them apart. “These cages make you think,” Bane said. “They give you no distraction from your memories. You need to get out into the world and get distracted, get caught up with living. It takes time and it’s difficult, but years later you look back and realize that you moved on without even noticing.”

 

“Do you still think of her?”

 

“Of course I do,” Bane said. “I think of you both, often.”

 

“I miss Talia so much,” Barsad sighed, eyes weary as they stared at the wall behind Bane’s shoulder. “I don’t want to let her go because I feel like it’s disrespectful, to love her so dearly and then leave her behind.”

 

“She’s gone, Barsad,” Bane was forced to say. “You cannot let yourself feel guilty for leaving behind someone who is already gone.” Barsad closed his eyes as though trying to blot out Bane’s words, though he didn’t tell Bane to be quiet. “You don’t have to forget her but you do have to find a new life for yourself.”

 

“Why?” Barsad’s voice was strained.

 

Bane thought about it. “Because Talia would kick your ass if she saw you wasting your life like this, when she didn’t even get a chance.”

 

Barsad stiffened and looked up slowly, their eyes meeting through the bars. Bane’s throat was tight because he knew the pain he was causing with those words, and saw the welling of tears Barsad had probably held back in prison for years. Bane wouldn’t take it back though because he knew he was right and also knew that Barsad needed to hear it.

 

Barsad shifted his weight uncomfortably and then exhaled, his whole body deflating. “I’ve been so selfish.”

 

“Talia wouldn’t blame you,” Bane assured his friend. “But I don’t think she’d put up with this much longer.”

 

To his surprise, Barsad laughed. The sound was warm, spurred by comforting and fond memories. Barsad leaned against the bars and closed his eyes again, but this time with a private smile on his lips. Bane didn’t interrupt; Barsad still had the same expression he always had when he was thinking of Talia.

 

When Barsad finally opened his eyes again he spoke confidently. “I’m not ready, but I know you’re right. What’s this friend’s name? I’d like to meet them, especially if I can avoid going back to prison.”

 

“His name is Bruce Wayne.”

 

“ _The_ Bruce Wayne?” Barsad gaped. “ _The_ Bruce Wayne wants to be my supervisor.”

 

Bane couldn’t help but laugh. “Well we don’t call him _The_ Bruce Wayne whenever we spend time together. But yes, that’s the one. He told John that he’d be happy to have you find a position working somewhere in his company, but if you found work elsewhere he’d be open to discussing it.”

 

“You ‘spend time together’ with Bruce Wayne,” Barsad said sarcastically. “Alright, just tell me which cop you’re trying to get me to sign up with.”

 

“I’m being serious,” Bane said. “John and Bruce are friends. I’ve met him and his old correctee when John had them over to play cards and watch movies.”

 

Barsad considered him for a long moment, lips pursed. “You’re really not lying, are you?”

 

“Why is it so hard for you to believe?” Bane asked. He had been shocked too when John brought Bruce and Selina over for the first time, but it wasn’t that hard to remember that even famous and wealthy people had normal lives with friends they spent time with.

 

“Because Wayne Enterprises is a company I have always dreamed of working for,” Barsad said.

 

Bane was surprised. “You never told me.”

 

“Because I never thought it would come close to being an option,” Barsad ran his fingers through his hair, his disbelieving gape turning into a hesitant smile. “Tell me you’re not lying.”

 

“I’m not lying.”

 

Barsad covered his mouth with his hand but his grin was still visible. He still looked a little uncertain, no doubt unaccustomed to holding hope in anything, but Barsad actually looked excited about something for the first time. “Then yes, I would definitely be interested in talking to Bruce Wayne rather than going back to prison.”

 

“Good,” Bane said with genuine relief. “I’ll text John right now.”

 

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and Barsad tensed, gripping the bars a little tighter. “You didn’t just come to tell me that, did you?”

 

“Of course not,” Bane assured as he typed a short message to John and sent it on its way. John texted back almost immediately saying he would tell Bruce and wishing them a good evening. After that Bane put the phone back into his pocket, planning to devote all of his attention to Barsad who still looked a little apprehensive. “We still have years of stories to tell.”

 

Barsad grinned at that and before long they had fallen back into easy conversation. It reminded Bane of the years they had spent in college together, Bane, Barsad and Talia. They often talked until the wee hours of the morning when they really should have gone to bed but instead decided they might as well stay up for their 8:30am classes and keep talking. Talia’s absence was obvious to them both but Bane and Barsad continued talking anyway as the minutes morphed into hours.

 

The majority of the time they discussed the last seven years in more detail, as well as what they recalled from their time in prison together but had been unable to talk about while behind bars in fear of being overheard. Other times they revisited more memories from the days before prison, sharing laughter and quiet moments of loss and contemplation. A few times they even ended up in a philosophical debate like in the old days, which always left Bane smiling.

 

Bane wasn’t even really conscious of the time passing until the night guard came into the room on his routine patrol. The guard checked the locks and bars while Bane and Barsad attempted to talk but mostly remained silent, a bit uncomfortable with someone else listening in. On his way out the door the guard told Bane that he could stay all night if he wanted to but that the garage door for the underground parking lot would be locked in fifteen minutes when the last police cruiser was returned from patrol.

 

When they were alone again Bane checked his phone, shocked to see that it was edging towards 3am. Although Bane and Barsad had barely noticed the time or slowed their conversation, their bodies had steadily become more tired. Barsad was lounging on the foot of his bed leaning against the wall and Bane had his head tilted back to rest against the wall as he relaxed in his chair.

 

He had every intention of staying the night, knowing John would understand and could either walk to work or get a taxi. So Bane was surprised when Barsad spoke up. “Go home to John.”

 

“I won’t leave you here alone all night,” Bane argued, rubbing at his face in an attempt to wake himself up. Sleeping on the chair would leave him with a stiff back in the morning but he had endured worse.

 

“Bane,” Barsad’s voice caught Bane’s attention, forcing him to open his eyes and look to his friend and brother. “I would give anything to hold Talia in my arms again. I won’t forgive you if you waste even one opportunity to be with the one you love.”

 

“I didn’t say love,” Bane hedged. It was a word that had been echoing in his mind recently but one he still felt hesitant to vocalize.

 

“Your eyes do, as does your smile when you see him and the way you gravitate towards each other,” Barsad countered, tone understanding and patient. “Now go.”

 

“Are you sure?” Bane confirmed as he stood slowly from the chair, stretching out his legs and back after sitting for so many hours.

 

“I’m positive.” Barsad’s eyes drooped even as he smiled. “I need to sleep anyway. I’ll be here in the morning.”

 

Bane stepped towards the holding cell and slipped his hand through the bars. Barsad reached across the small space between them and clasped their hands together, the grip tight and certain before they broke apart. “I’m glad to have you back in my life,” Bane said.

 

“As am I. Thanks for being as stubborn as me,” Barsad chuckled as he crawled across the bed and slid under the covers. It didn’t look like the most comfortable bed but at least Barsad would be safe here at the station until Bruce got the new contract made up and signed.

 

Bane headed back to the parking garage once Barsad was settled under the covers. While Bane had been certain he could stay up all night before the guard arrived, now Bane had to sit behind the steering wheel for a few minutes and force himself to wake up, not willing to risk falling asleep while driving. When he was finally sure he could make it home without getting into a car accident Bane started the engine, driving as quickly as he could while still being safe.

 

The apartment was dark and silent as Bane stepped inside; he could only hear the hum of the refrigerator and the ticking clock on the wall. Bane toed off his shoes and walked quietly to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Next he moved to his bedroom and changed into something to sleep in, all of his clothes still being kept in this second bedroom even though Bane had taken up the habit of sleeping with John each night. Bane occasionally felt guilty for not using the room after John had spent so much time and money making it nice for him, but now Bane thought that maybe Bruce could buy the furniture off John in preparation for Barsad.

 

Once changed Bane looked to his bed in consideration; he knew he should probably sleep here rather than risk waking up John halfway through the night. Barsad’s words echoed in Bane’s mind then, reminding him to take advantage of every opportunity to hold John in his arms. So Bane turned off the light and snuck into John’s room, doing his best to avoid the creaky floorboards.

 

John didn’t stir from sleep at Bane’s approach. He was curled up under the blankets closer to the wall, where John normally slept when they were both trying to fit on the bed. Bane smiled affectionately and slipped under the blankets. At the dip of the mattress John hummed low in the back of his throat and rolled over halfway to blearily blink at Bane in the darkness. “’M glad you’re home.”

 

“Me too.” Bane brushed away John’s hair and kissed his forehead. “Now go back to sleep.”

 

John made a grumbling sound like he was thinking of protesting but didn’t put up a fight when Bane gently coaxed him into rolling back onto his side. When John was settled Bane slid up behind him, spooning John from behind and wrapping an arm loosely around John’s waist. John made a sound Bane swore was a purr and leaned back, nudging his head against Bane’s chin.

 

“ _Love_.”

 

Bane’s heart stuttered as he buried his nose in John’s hair. “ _Love_ ,” he whispered back. When he had imagined this moment he had thought of a long declaration he could say, and the kiss they would share afterward that would cause the world to pale in envy. But this was perfect. Breathing in John’s scent and sharing heat as they both faded together into sleep.

 

#

 

Bane woke up to the sensation of fingers brushing over his jaw. He blinked his eyes open slowly and groaned at the sunlight making his eyes ache. At some point either during the night or when John woke up John had rolled over onto his other side to lie down facing Bane, his hand on Bane’s face. Bane smiled at the caress and leaned into it, enjoying the touch.

 

John continued to trace Bane’s jaw as their eyes met and held. Then John leaned forward. “You have stubble,” John informed him right before pressing their lips together in a soft, closed-mouth kiss.

 

The words startled Bane and before their kiss even broke Bane lifted a hand to feel his own jaw, and then smooth it over the crown of his head. As promised, he could feel the tiny prickle of hair just beginning to grow. It had taken a few days for the drugs to leave his system even after the mask had been permanently removed but now Bane’s hair was finally beginning to grow.

 

It had been seven years since Bane had had hair to deal with, and while he knew it could become a hassle to maintain, he was also excited. Especially since John was staring at him with darkening eyes, his fingers still touching his jaw with curious fascination. Feeling a surge of warmth and energy Bane rolled over on top of John and pinned him to the mattress with his weight, sealing their lips together with a heated kiss.

 

John moaned and kissed him back, lifting both hands up to cup Bane’s face and kiss him even deeper. Bane slid his hands under John and pulled him closer, John arching into the touch and hooking a leg over Bane’s to bring their groins together. They both groaned and Bane just slipped his tongue into John’s mouth when the sound of a phone ringing startled them both apart.

 

“Fuck, this better be an emergency,” John grumbled as he grabbed his ringing cellphone off the headboard. John was still panting when he saw the caller ID and swore again, before answering and trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. John didn’t quite manage it but Bane hoped the caller would assume that the gruffness of John’s voice was from just waking up. “Morning, Commissioner.”

 

Bane winced immediately; of all the people to call while Bane literally had John pinned between the mattress and his body. Bane forced himself to stay quiet and not move while John was on the phone even though his instincts were demanding that he start rolling his hips against John. With the heat of their bodies combined it was too easy for Bane to imagine stripping John down and sinking into him, claiming John’s body as his own.

 

The only thing keeping him relatively in control was the short conversation John was having with their boss, and the calming swirl of John’s thumb against his shoulder. The urge to duck down and suck on John’s neck while he talked was overwhelming but Bane held back when he heard John’s voice getting sharper and more urgent. “Yes, we’ll be right in. Bye.”

 

John hung up the phone and dropped it on the pillow by his head, resignation on his face. “Our shift doesn’t start until 1pm,” Bane said, glancing over at the clock; it was barely 10am.

 

“I know,” John sighed, kissing Bane’s jaw in apology. “But they need us in immediately. Something has opened up with the case.”

 

“We could make it quick,” Bane offered with a slow rock of his hips, desire still burning in his veins.

 

John’s eyelashes fluttered as he moaned on a heavy exhale. “Please don’t tempt me,” John begged, his hips rising in return to meet Bane. “I don’t have the self-control to say no.”

 

“And you think I do?” Bane laughed breathlessly as he rolled his hips again, taking in the whine building in the back of John’s throat.

 

John’s fingers clutched at the blankets as his lips parted with a quiet gasp. “ _Please_.”

 

“Please what?” Bane asked, because only John could get Bane to stop now with their hips finding a frantic rhythm that sparked fire across Bane’s body.

 

John bit his lip and then moved his hands to grab at Bane’s back, nails scraping his skin. “Please don’t stop.”

 

With the permission Bane reached down and lifted himself off John just long enough to pull both of their waistbands down their thighs. As soon as both of their hard lengths were free Bane lowered himself back down and began rocking against John with short bursts. Both of their cocks were trapped together between their stomachs as they fucked against each other, their breathing coming in hard and fast as they raced towards orgasm.

 

The friction was hot and dry and it was just enough for their pleasure to build rapidly. Before Bane could even reach down and grip them both in his hand John was arching under him violently and crying out Bane’s name. It only took the sensation of John’s come spilling between them, Bane’s cock gliding through John’s pleasure for Bane to feel the pressure snap inside him. Bane buried his face against John’s neck and groaned weakly as his hips stuttered, branding John with his seed.

 

When Bane lifted his head their eyes met, both of them grinning guiltily as they gasped for air and kissed faintly. They barely took the time to calm down before John was pushing against Bane’s shoulder and they both rushed out of bed, showering together just long enough to wash the come from their stomachs before racing to get dressed.

 

Despite having to rush around getting ready for work Bane and John were both grinning each time they ran into each other in the hallway, getting in each other’s way as they fought to brush their teeth and grab some toast for the road. More than once they ended up laughing under their breaths and touching unnecessarily, Bane’s legs still weak from his orgasm and his body giddy with pleasure and adrenaline.

 

By midmorning the roads were relatively clear and it was a quick drive to the police station. They didn’t even make it past the front reception desk in the lobby before the receptionist called out for them and pointed upstairs to send them up to the Commissioner’s office. Gordon’s door was already open when John and Bane arrived and they quickly saw that most of the select taskforce chosen to work on this case were squeezed into the small office.

 

When Gordon saw them he beckoned them forward and Bane nudged John into the last space available in the room, Bane standing behind him in the doorframe. “Thanks for making it in so fast,” Gordon nodded to them and then looked around the room. “And to everyone else for coming as well. We’ve had a break in the symbols case. With new evidence we were able to finally obtain a warrant to search Minnie Taylor’s belongings.”

 

“What new evidence?” Detective Rogers questioned. “I haven’t heard anything.”

 

“We only came across the information yesterday,” Gordon appeased the man. “Officer Blake and Bane had us bring over someone Bane knew in Blackcreek prison where Miss Taylor and her father work. He informed us that Miss Taylor had been signing out one of the prisoners routinely for some mystery work.” A few people glanced over to consider Bane but generally kept their attention on the Commissioner. “We got hold of those records and the timing of her signing out this prisoner correlate with the timing when we find dead bodies carved up.”

 

“That was enough for a warrant?” another officer wondered.

 

“Between that and the graphologist’s decision that there was a strong likeness between the style of the carved symbols and Miss Taylor’s writing,” Gordon said. “The pattern with the sign-out records weren’t a perfect match but there were enough coincidences to finally win over the judge.”

 

“So what’s the next step?” Rogers asked, words a little short with what Bane assumed was frustration or jealousy.

 

“We’re going to Blackcreek today,” Gordon announced. “I won’t risk word being passed on about the warrant and giving Miss Taylor time to destroy any potential evidence.” The Commissioner looked around the room. “I want Detective Rogers, Officer Vant, Officer Blake and Bane to suit up and meet me at the patrol cruisers within ten minutes. We’re leaving at 11am.” A quiet murmuring swept over the office as eyes focused steadily on John and Bane, who were just as shocked. “We don’t have time to gossip,” Gordon spoke over everyone. “Get a move on.”

 

Bane stepped out of the doorframe quickly and stood aside, John slotting himself beside Bane as everyone else walked past. A few officers sent them wondering looks and the other two detectives on the case watched them jealously, but no one said anything to them as the taskforce walked down the hallway and grabbed the elevator.

 

When the office was empty John and Bane looked back in, Gordon standing at his desk and pulling a few papers together. Gordon looked up at them with slight impatience. “I wasn’t joking about hurrying.”

 

“We’re just...” John cleared his throat, glancing at Bane. “You’re sure you want us?”

 

“You were the two who gave us what we needed to crack this case open when the rest of the station couldn’t,” Gordon reminded them. “And we’ll be talking more after. But for now, get going.”

 

They didn’t need to be told again, John and Bane catching the next elevator down and getting ready before meeting everyone else at the police cruisers. Gordon was last to arrive with all the paperwork they would need and told all of them the plan. They would have to present the warrant before they would be given admittance, but as soon as they were in Minnie’s residence rooms on the grounds they would have to move quickly before anything could be hidden or destroyed.

 

Briefing complete, Gordon got in the driver’s seat of one cruiser with John in the passenger seat with Bane seated in the back, Detective Rogers driving Officer Vant in a second car. The drive was a little over fifteen minutes to get out of town and while ideally Minnie had no knowledge of the warrant, it still felt to Bane like time was slipping away between their fingers each time their progress was slowed down.

 

Once they were on Blackcreek prison property all conversation died down, the air buzzing with tension as they got the cars parked and walked up to the guard room at the entrance. At Blackcreek there was a large outer wall surrounded by open fields and a forest in the near distance. The prison was only one – granted, _large_ portion of the interior. There was also a large section for workers as well as the warden’s family residence on the property. Why the Taylors chose to live on the property Bane had never understood; even as a correctee he had felt nervous about the possibility of a loose prisoner sneaking out to take their revenge.

 

Commissioner Gordon took lead as the guards looked over their papers and then began leading them to the Taylor residence. Gordon walked quickly enough to spur the guards into walking faster but without sparking any sort of panic. Detective Rogers was right at Gordon’s heel, with Vant, John and Bane following behind. Bane studied the residence house he knew too well and the prison off to the right with equal consideration, watching for any sign of panic beneath the facade of calm.

 

As they stepped up onto the porch the guards informed them that Warden Taylor was in the process of doing his rounds of the prison. Taylor’s wife would not be a problem; she had passed away nearly twenty years ago. When asked, the guards also told them that Minnie had left the property early that morning and was not expected back until dinner time, though Gordon and the others were asked to not disturb the correctees currently cleaning the residence.

 

They couldn’t hope for a better situation to avoid unnecessary drama while they performed their search. Whether the police found any evidence or not, the Taylors would be furious as soon as they were informed of the situation which – if Bane guessed correctly – wouldn’t take longer than a guard running to the prison and telling the Warden after showing the Commissioner and entourage the residence house.

 

Knowing they had to work quickly, and knowing what they were looking for to act as evidence, everyone jumped into action as soon as the front door was opened. Vant and Rogers were told to search the whole house while Bane –already familiar with the building – led Gordon and John to Minnie’s rooms directly. Rogers sent Bane and John a dirty glare before heading towards the kitchen, thankfully knowing that now wasn’t the time to vent his jealousy.

 

Minnie’s rooms included a small sitting room at the entrance, a bathroom and study branching out from the sitting room, and a bedroom beyond the study. The furniture in all of the rooms was a little banged up and worse for wear but Minnie always made sure that she dressed up everything she could. The curtains were made of a thick thread with rich colours and there were fancy paintings on the walls and fresh flowers in every room. Bane remembered always smelling the flowers during his time working here; even if he wasn’t in Minnie’s room she would smell strongly of them.

 

John made a beeline for the bedroom while Gordon headed immediately for the study. Bane followed orders and did a thorough sweep of the sitting room and bathroom first while John and Gordon worked on the more personal rooms where things were likely to be kept hidden. Bane checked for both evidence and potential traps, clearing the room before finally joining Gordon in the study.

 

Gordon looked frazzled by the time Bane arrived and Bane could immediately see why; Minnie’s book collection had expanded exponentially in the last year. Three shelves-worth of books were set on the floor, no doubt skimmed through for any sort of hint, with the other half of that bookshelf and five more bookshelves ready to be checked. Gordon had briefly abandoned the books to focus on Minnie’s desk by a large bay window and was currently fighting with the bottom locked drawer.

 

“Wait!” Bane rushed over and caught Gordon’s hand, stilling him. “If you force it there might be a mechanism to destroy whatever is inside,” Bane warned when Gordon sent him a displeased look.

 

Gordon looked back to the drawer and let go with a sigh, rubbing his face. “Is there any way to get it open without the key? I don’t have time to call in outside reinforcements before the warden gets here.”

 

“I can probably pick it,” Bane said as he spied a small container of metal paperclips on the sill of the bay window. He grabbed it and sat down in front of the drawer, ready to get started. “Keep working on the books.”

 

“You know how to pick locks with paperclips,” Gordon said sceptically.

 

“Simple locks, yes,” Bane said as he smoothed out his first paperclip. “You can thank my first supervisor for that.”

 

Gordon said nothing in response to that and as Bane started to work on the lock he heard Gordon walking back to the bookshelf to rifle through the collection of books. Bane also cast his awareness out to pick up on John’s feet walking around the bedroom through the door on Bane’s left, conducting his own search. Somewhere else in the house Rogers and Vant were completing their search but Bane couldn’t hear their feet.

 

For a few minutes Bane worked on the lock before he had to stop himself and take a few deep breaths. His hands were shaky with adrenaline and nerves and he would be utterly useless until he calmed down. It didn’t help that Bane hadn’t had much practice picking locks since Samuel had died, despite Ben’s belief that it had been Bane who picked the lock of his safe at the saw mill.

 

Once Bane was calm he started up again, and it didn’t take long after that to hear a satisfying _click_ of the lock opening for him. “Got it,” Bane said as he pulled open the drawer, pulling out the small unassuming notebook from the desk drawer. Footsteps approached as Gordon stood over him, looking over Bane’s shoulder as he flipped open the notebook. Inside was a collection of newspaper clippings, all about the symbols murders. Bane looked up to meet Gordon’s eyes. “Is it enough?”

 

Gordon sighed. “No. It could help but it’s not enough evidence on its own. At most it pegs her as a fan right now. And these books will take forever to go through. Blake!” Gordon called out.

 

A second later John appeared in the doorframe, looking between them and the notebook open in Bane’s hands. “Sir?”

 

“Help Bane go through the rest of this study. The two of you are more likely to recognize any patterns in the writing style or subjects since you’ve studied the case file for so long, paired with Bane’s personal knowledge of Minnie,” Gordon said as he walked towards John, brushing past him to enter the bedroom. “I’ll continue the search in here.”

 

Bane met John’s gaze before setting the notebook on top of the desk. Gordon had already gone through the rest of the desk and the first bookshelf so the other five bookshelves were all that remained. Bane and John each took an end and worked towards the centre, flipping through the pages as quickly as they dared without risking missing something important.

 

They were each halfway through their respective bookshelves and Bane was starting to fear that they had make a mistake, either in suspecting Minnie or in assuming that she would have something lying around for them to find. They had come this far though, and put in so much time; the least Bane could do is check every book before considering this mission a failure.

 

Bane and John worked in silence, not pausing until they suddenly heard a creak of wood and a grunt in the bedroom. John pulled his gun and rushed into the bedroom, Bane right behind him. They froze side by side as they took in the sight in front of them. Minnie was standing in the doorframe of what looked to be a walk-in closet, her outfit covered in dirt and grime. She had an arm around Gordon’s neck, holding tightly enough that his face was going red though he was only struggling weakly.

 

A handgun was in Minnie’s hand that she had pointed at Gordon’s temple until John and Bane burst into the room. That was when she levelled the gun on John, noticing his gun pointed at her in return. It would be impossible for John to take a shot at Minnie, the majority of her body hidden behind Gordon, but Bane didn’t like how unprotected John was despite the bulletproof vests everyone was wearing. With slow, calculated movements Bane shuffled a few steps to the right. Minnie turned her gun on Bane but didn’t shoot when Bane didn’t approach her, only moving to the side until his body was blocking John’s from potential harm.

 

“Bane!” John hissed but Bane ignored him.

 

“Bane,” Minnie said as well, eyes sharp with recognition. “I remember you.”

 

“How flattering,” Bane drawled, silently rushing to figure out how to get them out of this situation without anyone dying. Rogers and Vant were still searching the house and even if they did arrive there was only one door into the bedroom, leaving them all on the wrong end of Minnie’s gun.

 

“Where’s that mask of yours?” she asked, moving the gun back to Gordon’s temple when Gordon began to struggle more insistently. Unfortunately Bane knew that Minnie could still aim the gun on him again before he reached her even if he rushed. “I always loved that silencing feature.”

 

“Afraid to finally hear what I really think about you?” Bane goaded, taking a small step forward.

 

The gun returned to him, aimed at his head. “Not another step,” she warned.

 

Bane stilled and felt John stop right behind him, having followed his push towards Minnie. Bane tensed, staring down the barrel of the gun. There was just something about staring down death that turned his blood to ice in his veins, his body stiff in preparation for the sort of pain one might experience as death stole you away from the world. Bane didn’t want to die. Not now, when he had finally rediscovered happiness. But he would do what was necessary to keep John safe and stop Minnie.

 

“So who is it that you’re protecting?” Minnie’s voice was sickly sweet. “I didn’t know you fancied cowards, though it would suit you.”

 

John started to sidestep around Bane at the taunt but Bane stepped in front of him again, holding out a hand and pushing John back behind him. Minnie’s gun followed him, the metal glimmering in the late morning sunlight spilling in through the windows. Gordon’s face was still red as he struggled for breath; thankfully Minnie wasn’t choking him so strongly that Gordon would pass out.

 

“Jealous?”

 

“Of you?” Minnie scoffed, eyes narrowing. “Please.”

 

Bane shrugged. “I hear muscled rogues are your thing now. What was his name?” he pretended to ponder for a second. “Rodi?”

 

Minnie scowled. “Who?”

 

Bane had been around Minnie long enough to recognize a lie and pushed on. “I’d think you’d know the name of the prisoner since records show you repeatedly signing him out at very...unique times.”

 

Minnie paled as her mouth tightened to a narrow line. “I don’t need to know his name to fuck him.”

 

“Drop the charade,” Bane sighed. He considered taking another small step forward but even the shift of his weight had Minnie tightening her hold on the gun, murder in her eyes. “You’re already choking the Police Commissioner and have pointed a gun at both him and another officer of the law. You’re already screwed.”

 

“I’m allowed to be a bit defensive when a bunch of men burst into my bedroom,” Minnie hissed.

 

“There’s a hidden hatch in the wall of her closet,” Gordon choked out quickly. “She came out of there and—”

 

“ _Quiet_!” Minnie snapped, shoving the barrel of the gun back against Gordon’s temple as she simultaneously tightened her arm around Gordon’s neck until he made a choked gurgling noise.

 

Bane didn’t want to move; he really didn’t. He just wanted to stand still and protect John until a better opening came up. But Minnie was furious and a bit frantic now and didn’t seem to have any intention of releasing her hold. Either Minnie would choke him until Gordon passed out or Gordon would fight back – as he was already starting to do in his panic – until she was forced to shoot him since it wouldn’t be long before Gordon was able to overpower her.

 

It was the best opportunity Bane would get and before he could second-guess the decision or think about all the happy memories he might miss out on with John, Bane launched himself forward. After that things happened in a blur, Bane only able to pick out a few details. Minnie’s eyes widened as the gun swung back to Bane. A sharp cry of Bane’s name echoed behind him, swallowed up by three thunderous _cracks_ that left Bane’s ears ringing.

 

Bane felt something hit the vest covering his chest with the force of a brutal punch. He stumbled but didn’t stop, using his momentum to reach Minnie and knock the gun from her hand before she could get another shot off. An odd burning numbness was creeping across Bane’s limbs, his body feeling heavy as a hot liquid washed him. Still he pushed forward, grabbing Minnie’s wrist and dragging her down to the ground with him when she let go of Gordon and turned for the hidden door Bane could now see in the closet wall.

 

Bane crashed to the floor and found it difficult to do anything more than to continue clutching at Minnie’s wrist, his weight enough to keep her from escaping. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to stop her from rolling over to change her position and kick Bane squarely on the temple. All Bane felt was a sad swell of disappointment as his vision blacked out and his fingers lost their hold.


	18. Chapter 18

Bane flinched as water droplets hit his face. He groaned and forced his eyes open only to curse and clench them closed again, the brightness in the room nauseatingly painful as his head throbbed. Hands shook him as more water fell, pattering on his face and slipping down his cheeks. Bane had no intention of moving ever again, and was quite determined to ignore the person shaking him until he heard their familiar but scared voice. “ _Bane!_ Don’t you dare die on me!”

 

This time he kept his eyes open long enough to take in his surroundings. He was on his back on the floor in Minnie’s room and John was kneeling over him, tears cascading down his cheeks. Bane’s left arm felt like it was on fire the second Bane tried to lift it so instead he moved his right arm, shakily reaching to brush away one of the many tears. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

Bane titled his head to see the rest of the room, though he winced whenever he moved his head. Vant was standing by the window and talking hurriedly into a radio; all Bane caught was ‘back-up’ and ‘ambulance’. Bane could see that Rogers and Gordon were closer to him, Gordon leaning against the wall as he massaged his neck and Rogers standing over Minnie. Bane’s former supervisor was eerily silent, lying on her stomach with her hands handcuffed behind her, but Bane could see her breathing so he knew she was alive.

 

John caught his attention again. “Promise?”

 

“Promise,” Bane smiled, fully intending to keep his promise even as his vision swam and faded out again.

 

#

 

The next time Bane woke up he found himself staring at the white ceiling of a hospital room. There were three other beds in the room but none were currently occupied, and judging by the orange light trickling in through the blinds on the far window Bane would say it was approaching sunset. That was all Bane had time to take in before John noticed he was awake, standing so quickly that he knocked his chair to the ground.

 

They both winced and John apologized profusely for the noise, hurriedly picking the chair back up before moving to stand by Bane’s bedside. “Hi,” John’s voice was hushed as he cupped Bane’s cheek, smiling hesitantly.

 

“I’d like more than a ‘hi’,” Bane fake grumbled.

 

John grinned and dipped his head down to kiss him in a rush, their lips meeting softly but conveying so much. Bane lifted his right hand to hold the back of John’s neck, tilted his head to match the kiss for as long as he could before his head started throbbing more insistently and he had to lie back against the pillows. John carefully sat on the edge of the bed and laced his fingers with Bane’s. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered.

 

“Me too. I would’ve hated to not uphold that promise,” Bane said, joking but also serious. He tightened the hold of his right hand a little more and John didn’t complain. “What happened? All I remember is getting kicked in the head and then being on my back before waking up here.”

 

“You proved yourself to be stupidly brave,” John said in a way that was a compliment but also warned Bane to never act in such a manner again. “Minnie shot you when you rushed her; the first two hit your vest and left some bruising but that’s it. The third bullet hit your left forearm and did some damage to the bone.” Bane looked over and noticed the cast around his left forearm but didn’t attempt to lift it; he could tell by the pain he was already experiencing that it wouldn’t be worth the effort to do so. “The reason why you were unconscious for so long is because once they were certain there had been no damage from the kick to the head they kept you sleeping to fix up your arm.”

 

“It doesn’t feel very fixed,” Bane admitted, pain throbbing in sharp spikes up his arm and down his spine.

 

“Bullet wounds don’t just magically disappear. That’s why it’s generally good advice to _not_ rush someone with a gun,” John chided. “They removed the bullet and set the bone before stitching you back together but it’s still going to take a long time to heal, not to mention the physiotherapy. Luckily it’s covered by the Gotham Police since you’re an employee and were shot on active duty.”

 

Feeling guilty but not enough to regret his decision, Bane asked. “What happened after?”

 

“Minnie might’ve kicked you in the head but you gave Gordon enough time to get her handcuffed before she disappeared back into her hidden tunnel. By then Rogers and Vant rushed in after hearing the gunshots and secured the room,” John explained, his thumb brushing across the back of Bane’s right hand. “And you’ll never believe what we found in the tunnel.”

 

Bane sat up a little further against the pillows, anxious now. “Tell me.”

 

“We found _everything_ ,” John leaned in excitedly. “The tunnel must have been made decades ago. It leads down into an abandoned cellar and beyond the cellar the tunnel continues all the way out into the forest beyond the property walls. It would have been easy for them to grab someone outside prison property and sneak them back. And Minnie had converted the old cellar into what can only be described as a kill room. Whether or not she also brought Rodi back to her bed is irrelevant because it’s clear they were both down in that cellar too.”

 

“There’s enough to put her away?” Bane clarified.

 

“More than enough,” John said. “Minnie had a collection of notebooks down there all showing the development of the symbols and a legend for it all in its final draft, which match the ones found on the bodies perfectly. There’s also a large basin they could’ve easily used to drown the victims, a table with straps to hold someone down, and some surgical tools that would be the likely culprits for such clean cuts on skin.”

 

“And she led us right to it,” Bane said, a little disbelieving of their luck.

 

“We took her by surprise; that was our only lucky break,” John explained. “She was off-property when we arrived and for whatever reason she was sneaking back in through the tunnels, maybe to grab something she didn’t want the guards at the gate to see. Gordon was quiet enough that when she climbed out of the tunnel she didn’t know he was there, ending in the standoff.” John’s smile faltered slightly at the memory and Bane squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Gordon has people going through the cellar for fingerprints and DNA traces right now.”

 

“And what about us?” Bane asked, spreading and curling the fingers on his left hand just to confirm he still could even though it hurt to do so.

 

“You’ve been banished to desk work until you heal. And I along with you, which I’d be more upset about if it didn’t mean more time with you,” John informed him. “We should be cleared to leave the hospital once the nurse checks you over one last time. And while Gordon offered for us to take tomorrow off, I figured you’d probably want to see Barsad anyway. He’ll wonder why you didn’t visit today.”

 

“Is it horrible that I completely forgot about visiting him?” Bane groaned.

 

“No,” John silenced him with a look. “Please _try_ to remember that you were shot today.”

 

“Not fatally,” Bane said. John’s eyes narrowed and Bane switched topics quickly. “And yes, you’re right. I would like to visit Barsad tomorrow so we might as well do some desk work. Though I would be greatly appreciative if Gordon gave us the morning off so I could sleep off this migraine.”

 

The door clicked open behind them as the nurse walked into the room, clipboard in hand. John looked back to Bane and gently kissed his forehead before standing from the bed. “I’ll call Gordon while you get looked over,” John said. Their fingers began to slide apart and Bane clutched tighter, not wanting John out of his sight; the image of Minnie pointing a gun at John was still fresh in his mind, as he was sure the image was sharp in John’s mind of Bane running headlong towards a gun. Their eyes met and John held Bane’s hand tighter again, moving closer. “Or how about I call him when we’re home?”

 

“That sounds like a better idea,” Bane agreed, pulling John down for another quick kiss before the nurse cleared her throat and stole Bane’s grudging attention.

 

#

 

Friday passed slowly, as did the weekend. Despite being sent home from the hospital early in the evening on Thursday and getting a good amount of sleep – Gordon not asking them in to work until 1pm the next day – Bane still had a headache for all of Friday and half of Saturday. He was thankful there was no permanent damage from when Minnie kicked him but found it surprising that his head could hurt _so much_ without any lasting damage to explain it. He was over-sensitized to both light and sound, eyes closed to slits as he shied away from the bustling lunchroom and locker room at work. Not to mention the fact that every time he looked around too quickly it felt like a ball of barbed wire expanded behind his temples.

 

Luckily there wasn’t much work to be done on Friday since Bane and John weren’t scheduled for a patrol. Bane spent part of his shift catching Barsad up on what had happened the day before – a topic he couldn’t avoid considering the bruise on his temple and the cast around his arm. Barsad was pleased to know that his information had helped them get a warrant but was more cautious than Bane about assuming she would be found guilty. Bane was somewhat annoyed at first, considering what he had gone through the day before, but acknowledged that it wasn’t smart getting too hopeful before all the evidence had been studied.

 

That topic eventually sent him back up to his desk behind John’s to help in whatever way he could as he worked past his headache. Bane was shocked at the amount of paperwork that they had to complete after their search and encounter with Minnie. Bane and John each had to write a report of what happened, what they found and so on. And when that was done they needed to sign more forms – Bane’s associated with his medical coverage while John handled the other police reports.

 

Bane couldn’t wait for the day to be over and when they were finally sent home Bane collapsed on the couch. They had picked up burgers on the way home and it was all Bane could do to sit up straight long enough to finish his food before he started to sink into the cushions. At John’s quiet suggestion Bane lay down on the couch with his head in John’s lap, the warmth of John’s palm soothing his headache as John stroked his head gently. John was watching a movie and Bane was content to just close his eyes and remain nearby until they finally slid into bed together.

 

Although Bane just wanted to sleep through the weekend that choice wasn’t available to him. Saturday was spent with Bruce, spending the day together but mostly sharing information about Barsad. While Bruce assured Bane that he wasn’t thinking about backing out of the promise, they all agreed that it was fair for Bruce to know a little more about Barsad before any contracts were signed. Bane did his best to paint his friend in a good light while also being truthful about what had gotten them sent to prison. And while Bane couldn’t comment on Barsad’s last seven years in prison, Bane did assure Bruce that Barsad was personally interested in the chance to work at Wayne Enterprises.

 

Sunday was similar, except Bane and John escorted Bruce down to the holding cells of the police station for Bruce and Barsad to meet personally. During the entire drive there Bane was quiet and nervous, worried that Barsad would have changed his mind or would say something that might deter Bruce – after years in prison it was easy to forget how to mesh with society at times. But when introductions were made Bane released a private breath of relief because things could not have run smoother.

 

Bruce grabbed the chair Bane had left in front of Barsad’s cell and sat down, and before long they were both talking about technology even Bane struggled to understand. Considering the fact that Barsad had been locked away from most modern technologies and conveniences for so long, it was clear that he had really made an effort to keep track of technological advances in society as life passed him by. Back in high school Bane had been able to keep up with Barsad in terms of these subjects but in university Barsad’s engineering degree – as much of it as he had achieved before Talia’s death – had pushed Barsad up to another level.

 

Bane was happy to see his friend back in his element, especially when he could discuss it all with Bruce, who was both an idol of sorts to Barsad, and one of the leaders in technology advances. Bane had never minded seeing Barsad pull ahead in this field, knowing his own skills and knowledge lay elsewhere. Bane had always been a silent sort of leader, able to read people and adjust his leadership and motivating efforts for each individual.

 

At one point Bane’s stomach began to grumble, hungry for lunch. John met his gaze and together they snuck away to grab some food from a local street vendor and bring it back. Bruce and Barsad hadn’t even noticed their exit until Bane and John returned, shoving food into both of their hands and forcing them to stop talking long enough to eat. Bane considered the visit an undeniable success when Bruce and Barsad shook hands through the bars and Bruce promised to visit the next day with his lawyer and a representative from the CCP.

 

Again Bane and John spent the evening in, relaxing on the couch and speaking of nothing important. While Bane’s headache had finally faded away his arm still ached and pained him badly, making it difficult for him to get a full night of sleep even with John curled up around him and breathing deeply, trying to lull Bane into joining him in sleep. It left Bane exhausted and irritable, though he did his best to contain his pointless annoyance and was thankful when John was as patient as always.

 

Bane really wasn’t looking forward to going back to work even though he had been taken off patrol duty until his arm was healed. Just the thought of having to sit at a desk going through files for eight hours each day while his arm continued to throb even without any movement had Bane dragging his feet. The only thing that got him out of bed Monday morning was the knowledge that Bruce would be arriving for Barsad, and Bane wanted to be there for the proceedings.

 

It was after lunch when Bruce arrived, garnering more attention than seemed logical considering the fact that Bruce Wayne had lived in the city for so many years. In tow Bruce had a woman dressed in a sharp suit – likely his lawyer – and a man dressed in more business-casual attire who Bane guessed was from the government.  

 

Bane hoped to be part of the negotiations but while he was allowed to walk with Barsad to the interview room they had set up on the second floor of the building, Bane was barred entrance at the door. Barsad looked back to him, uncertain for a moment, and then took a deep breath and gave him a reassuring nod before walking in on his own. Bruce, the lawyer and the CCP official followed him along with a guard, but what surprised Bane was that he saw Gordon go into the room last, sending Bane a wink before the door was closed snugly.

 

Between negotiating the contract, getting everything signed and getting the program equipment properly fitted for Bruce and Barsad to wear, the meeting took the majority of the morning. Bane didn’t manage to be very productive as the hours passed, despite John reminding him multiple times that working would make the time go by faster. Bane spent most of the morning staring at the back of John’s head, thoughts far away and not at all focused on the case file open on his desk.

 

It was nearing lunchtime when the office door opened. Bane looked up from his desk and saw Barsad first, with Bruce and Gordon right behind him; the lawyer and government official were both finished their tasks and had apparently already left. When Bane’s eyes landed on Barsad he felt a moment of fear and uncertainty, wondering if he had advised his friend and brother wrong. Seeing the collar around his neck was jarring and degrading even though Bane had gotten accustomed to his own reflection possessing the same addition.

 

Barsad was grinning though, which was a shock in itself since all Lifers were normally forced to wear a mask as Bane had done until Gordon’s intervention. When Bane looked to Gordon he saw a twinkle in the man’s eye, Bane’s suspicions confirmed when Barsad stepped closer and said. “Alright, maybe not _every_ cop is horrible.”

 

Bane winced as a few other officers at their desks glanced over, though thankfully they said nothing. “No mask?” John wondered.

 

“I figured that since Barsad aided us in the investigation we could reward him by waiving the mask requirement,” Gordon spoke up, looking quietly pleased with himself.

 

“Where were you the first seven years of _my_ time with the mask?” Bane grumbled, though he smiled. He couldn’t help but be happy for his friend. Barsad was still touching the collar every few seconds, trying to adjust it or tug it away from his skin since he wasn’t yet desensitized to it, but he was still radiating with relief. It was easy to ignore the collar because Barsad _looked_ like a free man, not taking advantage of the situation but revelling in it.

 

“You should have come to John sooner,” Gordon teased, clearly in a very good mood.

 

Bane met John’s gaze across the desk and both of them smiled together. “I wish I had,” Bane said. “But it’s enough that I’m with him now.”

 

“Took you long enough,” Bruce muttered under his breath.

 

John looked away from Bane to glare at his friend. “Like you’re one to talk.” Bruce looked genuinely confused and while Bane wondered how Bruce would respond if they just opened his eyes to Selina, John seemed to decide that now wasn’t the right time or place to do so. John cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So what’s the plan?”

 

“Now that everything is signed I’m going to take Barsad back with me and show him where he’ll be staying,” Bruce said, picking up the topic easily to brush away his previous confusion. “There’s no sense leaving him here in the holding cell even though I don’t have any furniture for the small rooms I have available yet.”

 

“We have some extra furniture,” Bane offered while trying to keep the comment from implying too much.

 

Unfortunately Bruce still smirked, though he didn’t make a big show of it. “That would actually be really handy. Maybe I could give Barsad a tour and we could talk about potential jobs that might be of interest,” Bruce looked to Barsad for confirmation and Barsad nodded. “And then you can give me a call when the two of you are off work and we can come by to pick some stuff up.”

 

“Bring Selina too,” John said. “We’re overdue for a social night anyway and now we have a lot to celebrate.”

 

“I’ll give her a call,” Bruce smiled and turned back to Barsad. “Ready to go?”

 

For a moment Barsad ignored him and looked back to Bane, holding out his arm. Bane met the salute as they had done in the interrogation room and then Barsad shook John’s and then Gordon’s hands. “Thank you,” he said simply. Then he focused on Bruce. “Ready.”

 

The two of them exited but Gordon lingered, grabbing a chair from an empty desk and sitting between their two desks. Bane noticed a few of the cops at the other side of the room glancing over at them curiously but no one was bold enough to listen in on their Commissioner. “It’s not official yet but we have found trace DNA from at least eight different sources down in the cellar,” Gordon informed them quietly. “Two sets match Minnie and Rodi and three of the other sets matched our victims.”

 

“And the others?” John asked.

 

“We don’t know,” Gordon shrugged. “We’re going to have to run the DNA in our system and see if any names pop up. From there we can look into missing persons’ reports and so on. Hopefully we can drag it out of her during interrogation.”

 

“So you think she might have other victims?” Bane wondered, now that it was confirmed that Minnie was linked with the symbols case. It was a bit shocking to Bane, truthfully, until he thought about what he had learned about Minnie in his short time as her correctee. Losing her mother so young, abusive father blinded by grief, Minnie’s way of viewing the world occasionally becoming unhinged if she got on a rant…

 

“We don’t want to assume too much immediately since the cellar and tunnels are old and could have had any number of things happen in them over the years,” Gordon said. “But there _is_ a possibility that this case spreads farther than we even imagined. She could have had other victims that she practiced on before preparing one in the way she liked to present to the media. Her sort of thinking leaves a lot of possibilities, unfortunately.”

 

“But there’s enough evidence to convict her,” John said.

 

“Plenty,” Gordon confirmed. “Though we have a long trial ahead of us. We still need to document all the evidence and question her, all while her father is literally up in arms about us getting a warrant behind his back. _And_ the media frenzy of someone connected to the law in any way being responsible for this.” The Commissioner rubbed at his temples and sighed. “We’ll be making a formal announcement to the media next Monday once we’ve gotten everything confirmed, though I would like to speak with both of you on Friday. When do you leave?”

 

“Our shift ends at 3pm,” Bane supplied.

 

“Come by my office before you leave, alright?” Gordon said and both Bane and John nodded. “Good, well, have a good week.”

 

With that Gordon pushed his chair back to the empty desk and exited out into the hallway. Bane was still surprised that the Commissioner set so much time aside to talk to him and John, knowing Gordon was probably always overbooked and busy. Bane wanted to know what it was Gordon wanted to talk to them about on Friday but knew there was no point in asking before then. Instead John and Bane shared a curious, slightly confused look, and forced themselves to get back to work.

 

#

 

After work Bane and John took a few minutes to tidy up the apartment before calling Bruce, letting him know that they were home and that everyone could come over anytime. Bruce said that he and Barsad would pick up pizza on the drive over but that Selina might arrive early; she had been busy at work all afternoon and would drive herself to John’s apartment building to meet up.

 

In the few minutes they had left to be alone Bane sat on the couch and pulled John into his lap, nudging John’s legs apart until he was straddling Bane’s hips. “This isn’t a good idea,” John breathed even as he leaned forward to kiss Bane slow and strong, one hand on Bane’s neck and the other on his cheek which had even more substantial fuzz now than before. “They’ll be here soon.”

 

“I don’t care,” Bane said honestly as he rested his hand against the back of John’s neck and deepened the kiss.

 

John moaned into Bane’s mouth as he pressed closer, matching the kiss for a few long minutes as their lips danced. Then both of them groaned when John’s cellphone – currently shoved in his front pocket where it pressed against both their skin – began to vibrate. John sat back on Bane’s legs and pulled out his phone, reading the text message.

 

“It’s from Selina,” he said as he started texting back. “She’s just wondering if there’s anything to pick up; she’s almost here.”

 

John finished sending his response and then put the phone back in his pocket. He made a move to stand and Bane held his lower back with his uninjured hand, keeping him close. “We still have time,” he said, voice gone low and rough with the start of his arousal.

 

“Not enough time unless _you_ want to answer the door with an erection, because I certainly don’t,” John said. Bane pursed his lips and then sighed, his hand’s hold on John’s shirt loosening. John kissed Bane again, chaste but loving. “Soon, I promise.”

 

“Tonight,” Bane said, sliding his hand down John’s spine to make him shiver.

 

John groaned but smiled, a little bit of a flush tinting his cheeks. “Yes, tonight.”

 

After that Bane had no choice but to let John climb off him and disappear to the kitchen to pull out some plates and glasses. Bane headed in the opposite direction to his old bedroom to finish moving some of his possessions. Passion and arousal still simmered just below his skin but Bane managed to ignore it, keeping himself busy until his body calmed. He and John had decided that they would keep Bane’s desk and one of his dressers for his laptop and clothes, but that the other dresser, storage, bed frame and practically-new mattress could go if Bruce and Barsad wanted it all.

 

Selina did arrive first, offering up a carton of ice cream when John let her into the apartment. She slipped their dessert into the freezer and then helped John and Bane move the kitchen table back out into the living room in preparation for dinner since Bane’s left arm was still too injured to steady the table on his own. “You could have just left it in the kitchen,” Selina grumbled as they finally set the table on the carpet in the living room corner. “Your kitchen is _fine_ ,” she added as John opened his mouth.

 

“It’s _cramped_ in there,” John argued anyway.

 

Selina rolled her eyes and left the topic; the best decision since the table had already been moved. John looked ready to further defend his decision to have the table moved but they heard another knock at the door. “You know that Bruce became a supervisor for my old friend, right?” Bane asked Selina with slight concern as John moved toward the door; he didn’t want this to be a nasty shock.

 

“He told me,” Selina said, she and Bane walking together behind John towards the door. “I haven’t met him yet. Will I like him?”

 

“I think so,” Bane guessed. “But probably more once he’s settled into the idea of being out of prison. He’s still very much in the same mindset as when he went into prison twelve years ago when Talia died; he hasn’t had any chance to move on,” Bane explained. “Prison changes people but I’m hoping once he adjusts to his freedom he’ll regain some trust and confidence. I hope he starts making jokes again,” Bane added when he thought back to the Barsad he knew from university. “He was always the funniest of our trio.”

 

Selina smiled at that, but said nothing else as the door was pulled open. “We come bearing food,” Bruce called out into the apartment, holding the door open with his shoulder, bag of soda cans in one hand while Barsad slipped past him with two large boxes of pizza in his hands.

 

Only halfway past the front entranceway Barsad paused and looked around, eyes going wide until they finally landed on Bane. “You _live_ here?”

 

“Well technically _he_ does,” Bane tilted his head towards John, who was pushing the door closed and locking it.

 

“Don’t be coy,” John looked back to him. “You know you live here too.”

 

“Maybe I just like hearing you say it,” Bane said. He smiled as John approached and laughed softly when John gave his right shoulder a little shove.

 

Barsad gave an exaggerated groan, catching their attention. “Don’t tell me you’re always going to be this unbearable.”

 

Bane felt a flash of worry, not wanting to alienate his friend, but caught the slight quirk of Barsad’s lips. “You should have seen them when they first got together,” Bruce said, looking equally amused.

 

“Vomit worthy,” Selina smirked.

 

Bane was thinking of kissing John right there just to punish them all but John beat him to it, apparently having the same idea and wrapping his arms around Bane’s shoulders and dragging him into a rushed, heated kiss. It took all of Bane’s self-control to only kiss John for a moment – granted, a _long_ moment – and then step away, ignoring the urge insisting that he should just flatten John against a wall and forget about the pizza.

 

They both managed to pull back though, smiling a little sheepishly as everyone else groaned good-naturedly and brushed past them in the direction of the kitchen. John slid away to help with setup and Barsad set the pizza boxes in the middle of the table before moving to Bane’s side, standing beside him as they watched everyone else.

 

“You look good together,” Barsad told him fondly, both of them standing shoulder to shoulder.

 

Bane was still smiling from the kiss, and smiled wider at Barsad’s comment. “Thanks. I don’t want to make you feel out of place though.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Barsad said. “It’s still a bit of a shock to me, I’ll admit. I never expected to see you with anyone, let alone a man. But it’s good to see you happy. I’m glad I’ve gotten this chance to see you in your new life.”

 

“I want you to be a part of it,” Bane said, glancing to his friend. “And I also want you to find a new life of your own.”

 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Barsad shifted his weight, looking more eager. “Bruce showed me around this afternoon.”

 

“See anything you like?”

 

“ _Lots_ ,” Barsad said, grin barely contained. “I still can’t say that I’m happy with the idea of having a collar around my neck until the day I die. But the small rooms Bruce set up for me are much better than prison. I practically have my own small apartment with a kitchen and everything, and my own key if I want to invite people over,” Barsad said. “And there are enough resources in the Research and Development labs to keep me occupied for the rest of my sentence, I swear.”

 

“And you think things will work out with Bruce?” Bane asked, confident in Bruce but wanting to confirm that Bruce’s personality didn’t clash with Barsad’s.

 

“I was right to trust your advice. I think Bruce will be a good supervisor. Maybe even a friend.” Barsad sounded a bit surprised but not unhappy at the idea. “He actually _supervises_ somewhat but he’s not overbearing. The apartment will especially give me some independence. I think once we both settle into the new situation I could actually…” Barsad shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at his feet. “Maybe I could forget about the collar. Or at least not mind it.”

 

Bane hummed in understanding. “Yes, that’s how I felt with John, even before our relationship changed,” Bane said. “It was part of the reason why I fell—” Bane cut himself off with a cough. Barsad sent him a knowing look but didn’t press it. Bane couldn’t quite explain it but he wanted to say the words to John before anyone else; they had come close the other night in bed but for Bane it was important to make a full declaration. “He treated me like a person,” Bane continued on. “The first person in years to make me feel like a human rather than a slave.”

 

“I wonder if I’ll ever find someone as special as John is for you; like Talia,” Barsad wondered aloud.

 

Bane glanced over sharply, shocked. The fact that Barsad was even considering such a thought was a huge change. During the years they had spent together in prison Barsad had talked like Talia would be his one and only love, that he would never even look again, let alone consider the possibility of loving another. It would be hard for Barsad to move on; loving someone else would bring up guilt and the fear of loss again. But Barsad had a lifetime of living in society to look forward to now, and Bane hoped that Barsad might someday find someone new.

 

“Talia was one of a kind,” Bane said fondly. “But the world is large. You don’t need to find another Talia to be happy. You may meet someone who is completely different and yet still capture your heart.”

 

“Look at you being all philosophical,” Barsad chuckled, nudging Bane with his elbow. “I missed it. You stopped talking like that in prison.”

 

Bane had forgotten. After losing Talia and during his years of abuse in prison and the program, Bane had forgotten that he was an idealist at heart. It felt like another tiny part of him had returned, brought back with John’s patient love and also Barsad’s return into his life. It made Bane feel incredibly content. Despite the pain in his arm and his years of being beaten and abused, tortured and cast aside, Bane had endured and was coming out stronger than ever.

 

“If you two keep talking we’re going to eat all the pizza,” Selina called to them as she, Bruce and John finished setting up everything on the table around the two pizza boxes in the centre. “Trust me; I have no qualms about finishing the box on my own.”

 

Before Bane even realized what was happening Barsad jumped into action, stepping forward with an amused grin. “That would be quite impressive. I’m Barsad, by the way,” he extended a hand which Selina shook after setting down her glass. “You’re Bruce’s girlfriend, right?”

 

The entire apartment turned into a freeze frame, tension thick in the air. Selina looked to Bruce, who was staring at Barsad, while John and Bane’s eyes met across the room. Bane knew Barsad was a believer in not wasting opportunities but he hadn’t been expecting _this_.

 

After a moment Selina withdrew her hand from Barsad’s grasp and laughed nervously, looking unsteady for the first time since Bane had met her. “Uh, no, I—I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I’m Selina.”

 

“Yeah, Selina,” Barsad nodded, clarifying that he had not mistaken her for someone else. “It’s not _Bruce and Selina_?”

 

“Just Selina,” she confirmed tightly.

 

“That’s surprising, considering the way you look at each other,” Barsad said.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bruce spoke up tentatively.

 

“Then it’s your fault for leaving a charming woman like this available for anyone to just…pluck up,” Barsad offered his most charming smile. John looked truly panicked now and Bane was trying to decide if he should just drag Barsad away before he could say anything else on the matter.

 

Selina’s look of bewilderment turned into a scowl. “I assure you, there will be no _plucking_ of any kind. I choose who earns my affections.”

 

“And how could anyone else compete when you’ve already chosen?” Barsad’s eyes flickered obviously from Selina to Bruce and back.

 

“I haven’t chosen,” Selina said, though it was clear to Bane how hard Selina was fighting to _not_ glance over at Bruce as well.

 

“Are you certain?” Almost by accident Selina and Bruce’s eyes locked across the table, and Bane could see the way Selina’s cheeks were uncharacteristically flushing red. No one spoke. “Oh well, my mistake,” Barsad said cheerily, walking past her to pull open the top pizza box. “Who wants pizza?”

 

While Barsad busied himself with filling a plate with food everyone else remained standing, frozen. Bane didn’t know what to say, if he should let the topic slide or if he should try to turn it into a joke. John looked just as uncertain, looking back and forth between Bruce and Selina who were still staring at each other as though speaking telepathically. Just when the silence was becoming unbearable Selina cleared her throat. “Bruce, can I speak to you for a moment?”

 

“I uh… yeah,” Bruce nodded, glancing to John briefly with a barely-contained look of panic in his eyes.

 

“Bane’s old bedroom is at the end of the hall on the right,” John said even though both Bruce and Selina already knew that. Then John seemed to realize he was suggesting a bedroom and stammered. “I mean, wherever you want just—feel free.”

 

Bruce’s smile was tight as he held out a hand, offering for Selina to take the lead down the hallway. By now Barsad was seated at the table munching on his pizza and John and Bane remained standing stiffly and silent until they heard two pairs of footsteps walk down the hall and a door close.

 

“Oh fuck,” John muttered.

 

“What were you thinking?” Bane demanded immediately.

 

Barsad swallowed his mouthful and put down his pizza slice. “Well it was obvious that they had feelings for each other. Even if Bruce hadn’t talked about her all the time while showing me around I would’ve been able to tell when they were in the same room.” Barsad looked up to Bane. “You know how I am; I won’t let people waste time because they’re a little shy.”

 

“I’m sure they would’ve figured it out on their own if you had let them,” Bane said.

 

“How long have they known each other?”

 

Bane looked to John, who answered. “Quite a few years.”

 

“See? They’ve already wasted time. I just gave them a little push,” Barsad shrugged. “Just have some pizza and let them figure the rest out for themselves.”

 

“They’re not going to figure it out; they’re both too stubborn!” John groaned, though he did sit down at the table across from Barsad, leaving two chairs free on his left, and one chair free between him and Barsad for Bane. “They’re either going to tear each other apart or come to tear _you_ apart as a tag-team. Selina is probably in there right now demanding to know if Bruce put you up to that.”

 

“If they’ve been close for so long then Selina should believe Bruce when he insists he has no idea what just happened,” Barsad assured them both, grabbing one of the cans of soda and pouring it into a free glass. “Have a little faith.”

 

Bane wavered where he stood. He was going to give Bruce and Selina time to figure things out for themselves; Bane certainly had no intention of barging in on an already awkward conversation now. But he didn’t know where to sit. If Bruce and Selina’s talk went well they would want to sit together. If not, the further the better. It seemed that their conversation was going to be a long one though and Bane was hungry enough to eventually just take a seat between Barsad and John; if necessary he could change seats later.

 

For a few minutes they were all awkwardly silent. Bane tried to not strain his ears but he couldn’t help his instinct to listen for Bruce and Selina’s conversation even though he knew it was too far away to hear. He only heard the sizzling of their soda as they ate and drank quietly. As time wore on they slowly managed to start up a new conversation, aware of the two empty chairs but trying to avoid thinking about what was taking Bruce and Selina so long to rejoin them.

 

Bane was nearly done his second slice of pizza when his ears caught the sound of a door clicking open down the hall. He tensed and glanced up and then looked down at his plate, doubting Bruce and Selina would want a lot of attention when they re-emerged. It was impossible for Bane to continue staring at his plate though when he saw John look up and his eyes widen, staring openly.

 

Bane looked back and watched as Selina and Bruce took their seats at the table side by side, appearing forcefully nonchalant. Bane wasn’t sure why they bothered to try. Both of their hair was mussed and tangled from fingers, their cheeks were a bit flushed and Bruce had a smudge of Selina’s lipstick at the corner of his mouth where he hadn’t managed to rub it off. And although the angle wasn’t quite right for Bane to confirm, he thought he saw the start of a hickey only half-hidden by Bruce’s collar.

 

John quietly reached over and pushed the strap of Selina’s summer dress back up onto her shoulder. Selina’s face reddened further as she continued to stare at the table. “Thanks,” she said under her breath when John’s hand withdrew.

 

“Anytime.” John looked around the table to Bane, his eyes wide. Bane could see the twitch at the corner of John’s lips as he struggled to hold down his shocked grin.

 

Bane was facing a similar issue. Before he cracked up with nervous laughter he nudged the pizza boxes closer to Bruce and Selina, who hadn’t yet made any movement at all. “Pizza?”

 

John broke first, hand over his mouth but doing little to muffle his laughter. Bane fought it for an extra moment, his mouth twisting as it fought to smile. He was lost when he looked over and saw John giving up and laughing openly, eyes crinkled with the most beautiful laugh lines. Bane started laughing as well with Barsad joining in immediately. Bruce and Selina looked like they were considering killing them all for a minute and then they too finally succumbed until all five of them were laughing around the table with tears in their eyes.

 

#

 

The rest of the evening ran smoothly. Bane was surprised but pleased to see that Bruce and Selina didn’t act much different in a relationship from how they behaved before. Bane assumed it was because Bruce and Selina had been so close before that they had already practically been acting like they were in a relationship even if they had been unwilling or too unaware to properly label their feelings.

 

Bane knew that Bruce and Selina would probably have to have a more serious talk in private but for now they were acting relatively calmly for their social visit. Occasionally Bane would notice them staring at each other for a little longer than normal, or leaning in shyly for a few hesitant kisses when they thought no one was looking – when really, Bane, John and Barsad were just being polite and pretending to be otherwise distracted.

 

Once or twice Bane glanced to Barsad to read his friend, not knowing how Barsad would react to being a fifth wheel even if he had set everything in motion. Barsad looked anywhere from calm to smugly pleased with himself, never indicating any feelings of loneliness or resentment. They let Barsad choose the movie they were going to watch for the evening and that alone seemed to be enough to make Barsad’s evening even better, getting to choose his first movie to watch in twelve years.

 

When dinner and the movie were done everyone split the leftovers and said their goodnights. Bane wrote down his phone number and passed it off to Barsad for whenever Barsad was given his own mobile. Bruce and John discussed how much the extra furniture had cost and some money exchanged hands – John not entirely pleased but accepting eventually anyway. The hour was late and everyone was tired so Bruce said he would send someone over tomorrow to pick up the furniture; they had found an air mattress to accommodate Barsad for the night.

 

With everything sorted everyone headed for the door. Bruce and Selina headed out first and just before they disappeared around the doorframe Bane saw Bruce tentatively wrap an arm around Selina’s waist to pull her closer. Barsad followed behind them, sending John and Bane a wink before pulling the door closed and disappearing down the hallway.

 

Bane started walking towards the kitchen but John turned him around and nudged him down the hall, suggesting that Bane get ready for him while John finished up washing the last few plates and glasses. Knowing he wouldn’t be much use at washing dishes with his arm in a cast and remembering their promise – _tonight_ – with a flash of heat, Bane got ready for bed and stripped down before sliding into their bed to wait.

 

Bane lay in the cool sheets as his body slowly warmed them up. The room was dark and quiet and as Bane waited he felt his eyes drooping closed. His eyelids grew heavy and Bane fought it for as long as he could before he finally surrendered, thinking that it couldn’t hurt if he let his mind drift for a few minutes. Bane yawned and rubbed his face one last time in an attempt to wake himself up before his eyes fully closed, his breathing slowing.

 

He didn’t know how long it had been when he felt the bed dipping under John’s weight. Bane half-woke as John slid across the bed and slotted his body against Bane’s, which was precisely the moment when Bane realized John was as naked as Bane was beneath the sheets. John locked their lips together and Bane desperately wanted to respond, warmth pooling at the base of his spine, but he was too groggy to do more than tiredly kiss John back and rest a hand on his hip.

 

John withdrew after a moment, breath fanning across Bane’s face. “I woke you,” John guessed, voice hushed.

 

“’M sorry,” Bane slurred, struggling to keep his eyes open as he pulled John closer to him. “I don’t know why ‘m so tired.”

 

“Because you got shot in the arm and kicked in the head,” John said dryly. “Your whole body is focused on healing so of course you’re going to get tired faster.”

 

Bane fought to focus on John’s words. It felt so good having John’s naked body against his own, legs tangled together and hips aligned. But it was only lulling Bane back to sleep, their combined warmth and the knowledge that John was safe in bed with him all Bane needed to melt. “Jus’ give me a minute.”

 

“Bane,” John said softly, fingers brushing over the tiny hairs beginning to cover the top of Bane’s head. “Don’t fight it. Go back to sleep.”

 

“But tonight—”

 

“Is just one of many nights,” John spoke over him, smile audible in his tone. John kissed the bridge of Bane’s nose and Bane smiled because he was almost certain John had been aiming for his forehead but the kiss had been perfect as it was. “Now sleep.” In his last moments of wakefulness Bane looped his arm tighter around John, cradling him close and breathing in John’s comforting scent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left!


	19. Chapter 19

“Come in, come in!” Gordon called through the door when Bane knocked, John right behind him. Bane pushed the door open and saw Gordon rushing around the room, setting some files away in a cabinet behind him and moving others to refill the briefly-empty sections of his desk. “I don’t have much time; something came up. Shame, really. I wanted to give this a bit more ceremony.” Gordon waved his hands. “Flare.”

 

Bane and John shared a look and stepped further into the office, not bothering to sit down since it seemed they would not be here for long. “Anything we can do to help, sir?” John said.

 

Gordon waved him off. “That comes later. First I need to find…” Gordon rifled through one of the drawers of his desk, grinning in triumph when he pulled out a thin folder. “Here it is. Have a seat. You can shove things aside; I’m in the process of reorganizing anyway.” Bane and John sat down and pushed a few folders aside, freeing up a small section of the desk where they could actually see the polished wood surface. Once they were all settled Gordon looked back and forth between them. “Who wants to go first?”

 

They were both silent for a moment. “Is it good news?” John joked tentatively.

 

Gordon chuckled. “Yes, it’s good news for both of you.”

 

“Let John go first,” Bane said, smiling at John’s slight look of surprise.

 

“Alright, John.” Gordon turned his full attention on John, grabbing one of two documents from the file. “This will be a very anticlimactic way of informing you, but I want to promote you to the role of detective. I have been extremely impressed by your work ethic, determination and ingenuity since I hired you, but especially during the last few months.”

 

John’s eyes went wide but that was the only indication that he had heard the Commissioner’s words at all.

 

Gordon continued. “I can tell you both and trust you not to spread word before we make an official announcement. Minnie Taylor is guilty and we have more than enough to put her away, and the other DNA traces we found all matched missing persons on file. This means that we have _a lot_ more work to do on her case and I want you to be a part of that team. I want you to help us go through all the evidence and I want you to be with us when the trial begins.”

 

John remained silent. After a moment Bane reached over and nudged John’s arm, jolting him out of his stupor. “What about Bane?”

 

Bane rolled his eyes and carefully lifted his injured arm to rest a hand on John’s shoulder reassuringly. “That’s not the first thing you’re supposed to say when your boss offers you a promotion.”

 

John was blushing but he had his head held high, determined. “I couldn’t possibly take all the credit for myself,” John said. “I owe much of my success to Bane’s own support and sharp intellect and I fear I would disappoint you without him remaining by my side.”

 

Bane couldn’t decide if he wanted to shake his head or pull John into a kiss. He ended up shaking his head since the latter would be inappropriate, though he did squeeze John’s shoulder. “You are too modest, John.”

 

“Agreed,” Gordon smirked. “But luckily that’s not an issue right now. Bane will not be receiving any formal promotion but I do consider the two of you partners in this office and therefore your work together will continue. Call him an assistant or officer, I don’t care. I just want you two working together.”

 

“Partner,” John confirmed, eyes flicking to Bane for a moment before returning to his boss. “And I suppose now my ‘thank you’ is overdue.”

 

“I have no interest in formalities. Nor do I have time for them at the moment.” Gordon checked his watch and then handed over the first document with a few sheets of paper stapled together. “I printed off a rough draft of the contract you’d be signing if you accept. It’ll cover all the details: pay raise, roles and responsibilities, blah blah. Basically you’ll be working on the Taylor case full time until that’s wrapped up and then your time will be spent mainly dealing with new cases assigned to you as they come. And Bane will be working alongside you; your schedules will be the same.”

 

John was doing a good job at maintaining a calm exterior, though Bane caught the subtle quiver of the rough-draft contract in John’s hand before he set it in his lap. “I cannot thank you enough,” he said. “I’ll look over the contract this weekend.” Bane knew John was just being polite and professional; he was certain John would accept the job – this was a role he had been dreaming of, and aspiring towards, for years.

 

“You’ve earned it. I’ll make an official announcement when we update the station on the Taylor case once you’ve made your decision. Now for you, Bane.” Gordon removed the other document from the case, this one only a single, thick-papered sheet, and slid it across the desk for both Bane and John to look at together. “To get right down to it, I never got a chance to properly thank you for saving my life. If you hadn’t rushed Minnie she could’ve cut off my breathing or dragged me into the tunnel where it was harder to stop her.” Gordon rubbed at his neck, though all bruising was hidden below the Commissioner’s high collar. “This is the only thing I could think of doing to properly express my gratitude; for saving my life and also for being an integral part of solving this case.”

 

Bane was trying to read over the document but a lot of it was legal jargon he didn’t fully understand. John seemed to have a firmer grasp on things because his mouth fell open as he looked up at Gordon. “There’s no way you managed to do this.” Before Gordon could even answer, John turned to Bane. “This is a legal document agreeing to reduce your criminal sentence. You won't have to wear a collar for the rest of your life.”

 

Bake picked up the sheet of paper in his hand cautiously, worried that if he was too rough the page might tear or crumble. He did his best to work through the words on the page but by now his thoughts were far beyond this moment and this office. Bane had planned to be a correctee for the rest of his life, to don his collar until the day he died as payment for the actions he had committed to avenge Talia. Of all the possible futures he had imagined and hoped for throughout the years, a future without the collar hadn’t even been one he had bothered entertaining. Now he was being told it was going to _be_ his future.

 

Gordon spoke up after a long moment of silence. “Unfortunately you’ll still have to wear the collar for another few years. When I spoke to the government and the courts they explained that in most cases a prisoner is expected to serve at least twenty five years of a life sentence and they were unwilling to budge from that.”

 

Bane did the calculations in his head; he had already served twelve years of his sentence, having barely even given the attention to count the years since he previously thought it was meaningless. “That would mean I only have thirteen more years to serve as a correctee,” Bane concluded, still shell-shocked as he carefully set the paper back onto the desk.

 

“There’s a lot more paperwork you’ll have to fill out closer to your official release: updating the CCP contract, signing up for any official ID cards that were taken away or gone out of date since you were arrested and so on,” Gordon said. “For now it’s just a matter of the three of us signing this document and getting it attached to your current CCP contract. I guess it doesn’t seem like much now but in a few years—”

 

“Commissioner I could never thank you enough for this,” Bane spoke over Gordon, silencing his oddly sheepish ramblings. “I can’t deny that I’m happy as I am now, but you have given me the real possibility of a _future_ and a _family_.” While correctees were allowed to work and live in society, they were still barred from many rights as prisoners. To dissuade supervisor/correctee relationships, correctees were not allowed to marry; they also weren’t allowed to travel out of country, invest money, adopt a child... These were all things Bane had never even considered before right now, and suddenly his mind was overloaded with images of what his new future could hold.

 

“You are more than welcome, truly,” Gordon smiled. “And while I know I’m going to completely ruin the moment by rushing through this, I’m already five minutes late for a meeting so shall we get on with signing this?”

 

Bane was still numb from shock as he watched Gordon and John sign the paper, and when he saw rather than felt John pushing the pen into Bane’s hand. Bane’s signature ended up as a messy scrawl and a part of him felt he should’ve made his signature on such an important document look neater than that, but it was done and Gordon was making a copy to file away and handing the original over to John to add to the contract.

 

And just like that Bane’s life sentence had been reduced to only thirteen more years. It suddenly felt like too far away for him to possibly wait and also a pointless milestone at the same time. Because he wanted everything his true freedom could offer him – could offer _both of them_ ; John and Bane together. But Bane also knew that he would have been able to live a perfectly contented life with John even with the collar permanently around his neck because John already made Bane feel free.

 

They shook hands across the desk and then Gordon stood, grabbing a few other files from his desk and holding them under one arm. “I really do apologize but I have to run. See yourselves out and John, come by on Monday about the contract.”

 

And with that Gordon was speed-walking down the hallway, slipping into the stairwell without even bothering to wait for the elevator to arrive. John and Bane were left sitting side by side in Gordon’s office, the hallway beyond the office quiet and empty. For a minute they remained immobile, staring at nothing as their brains worked on comprehending the new changes in their lives. John – promoted! Bane – promised freedom!

 

Bane didn’t know who moved first but all at once they both leaned in, their lips meeting in the tiny space between their chairs, adrenaline and joy sparking desire in both of them. Bane reached over with his uninjured arm and cradled John’s face with his palm, turning John to deepen the kiss greedily. John moaned and opened his mouth invitingly, Bane immediately pushing his tongue in to brush the roof of John’s mouth before meeting his tongue.

 

When they broke apart for air they were both panting. John was still leaning close to him, in danger of falling out of his chair. John quickly nipped Bane’s bottom lip and Bane groaned, struggling to drag air into his lungs faster so he could start kissing John again. John’s lips quivered against Bane’s own as they shuddered through each breath. Quietly, John whispered. “I suppose it would be bad form to have sex right here.”

 

“Probably,” Bane chuckled under his breath, merely grazing his lips against John’s own. “After everything he’s done for us.”

 

John hooked a hand on Bane’s neck, pressing their lips together more desperately for a moment before he whispered against Bane’s ear. “I want to feel you inside me.”

 

Bane choked on a moan as he felt his cock twitch and begin to harden at the sultry lilt of John’s request. “We’re going home, right now,” he said as he stood, John standing to match him. Bane couldn’t even express how relieved he was that their meeting with Gordon had happened after their shift ended so that John and Bane could head directly home; Bane wanted to ride his exhilaration together with John, to feel their hearts racing in sync.

 

They broke a few traffic laws on their rush home, John parking the car as carefully as he could in the indoor parking lot before turning off the car. Bane was about to get out when John crawled across the space between their seats and settled in Bane’s lap. Before Bane even got his seatbelt undone John’s hands were on him, one curled around his neck and the other on Bane’s belt. John tugged at it and clutched tightly, holding himself stable as he kissed Bane hard enough for Bane to see stars.

 

Bane willingly gave up his breath to John, who greedily stole it from him as their lips moved together. They kissed fast and hard, moaning together loudly with no fear of anyone hearing them in the empty parking lot. The car began to sway as John hesitantly rocked his hips forward, nudging his swelling erection against Bane’s own. As Bane opened his mouth to groan John dipped his tongue in and Bane allowed entry, his hands dropping down to hold John’s hips and lead his new rhythm firmly.

 

Bane could already feel a boiling pressure building inside him, each rock of John’s hips sending a spark of electricity along Bane’s nerves. It was only when he felt John tugging at his shirt, pulling it from his waistline, that Bane found the motivation to grab John’s hand and still his movements. John leaned back with a whine, eyes dark as he nipped Bane’s bottom lip hard and then sat back on Bane’s thighs when Bane refused to reciprocate.

 

“This isn’t the place,” Bane said with slight regret.

 

“What if I told you I had imagined you fucking me in the back seat of the car before?” John murmured the words against the corner of Bane’s mouth, teasing the day-old scruff on his face. Bane’s head was still mostly bald but his facial hair was coming in fast enough that Bane had been forced to shave that morning.

 

The mental image and knowledge of John imagining such a thing sent a lightning bolt of desire straight down Bane’s spine, his hips jolting forward on instinct. John breathed in sharply through his teeth and then gasped when Bane lifted his hips a second time, easily addicted to the sounds of pleasure John was offering him. But Bane still knew that the car was no place for John to lose his virginity a second time; he wanted to ensure this was as painless for John as possible.

 

“Happy as I am to hear that delicious detail, this still isn’t the place. At least not for our first time,” Bane insisted, skimming his fingers teasingly up John’s spine and causing his boyfriend to arch his back beautifully. “I want to spread you out on the bed and taste every inch of you.”

 

John met Bane’s lips with sweet longing and then grumbled jokingly as he fumbled out of Bane’s lap. Both of them rushed out of the car and headed for the elevator up to their floor, relieved that no one else was in the elevator to see their obvious erections. They shared the occasional sheepish look as the floors slowly passed by, both of them standing somewhat awkwardly with the pressure in their groins demanding release.

 

As soon as they got the apartment door locked behind them Bane had John against the wall and up on his toes, Bane’s thigh rubbing against John’s clothed-erection as their tongues duelled. John rode Bane’s thigh perfectly, arms around Bane’s neck as he gasped and whined repeatedly into Bane’s mouth.

 

Bane could feel John growing tenser, his fingers digging into the muscle of Bane’s shoulders and back. John’s lips fell away from Bane’s mouth as his head rested back against the wall, his lips swollen and parted as he gave little hiccupping gasps each time Bane got the right friction against his throbbing cock. “Bane, _please_ ,” John clenched his eyes closed. “I want you in me. I’m ready.”

 

“I know you are,” Bane said. He could tell. John had none of the tentative hesitance left in the way he held Bane close and took what he desired as his orgasm built in his belly, setting his skin on fire. “And I will fill you today. That is a promise. But not yet.”

 

After he spoke Bane fumbled open the first few buttons of John’s shirt and sealed his lips on the flying pulse point on John’s neck. He began with a teasing suction and then nibbled gently with his teeth, leaving a faint indent before soothing the skin with his tongue. Then he sucked harder, making John’s heartbeat jump as he flattened John against the wall and rutted with him. Bane’s left arm was aching by now with moving it while in a cast so he let it rest as his side while his right hand held the dip of John’s lower back, leading him more forcefully against Bane’s thigh until John’s need was absolute.

 

John didn’t offer a word of warning though Bane could tell he was at his end anyway. John’s face and neck were flushed, which highlighted the dark hickey on John’s neck that served as both a love bite and a branding. Just seeing the bruise in the shape of his mouth on John’s skin had Bane’s cock twitching, though he purposefully made sure to not give himself enough friction to find his completion with John as his partner whined in the back of his throat and finally shuddered over the threshold.

 

John called out Bane’s name weakly and moaned, loud and long. Bane held John close against his body and let John thrust and rub against him as fast and hard as he needed, John panting loudly in Bane’s ear. When John was finally spent Bane lowered his leg, John slumping back to let the wall hold his weight.

 

Bane touched under John’s chin to tilt his face up, John’s eyes fluttering open. “To bed with you.”

 

“You’re coming too,” John said, though his voice wavered with a question as his fingers held tightly to Bane’s shirt, wrinkling the neckline.

 

“Of course,” Bane smirked and nudged John away from the wall. John walked down the hall and into their bedroom on wobbly legs and Bane followed behind him, enjoying the view of John’s ass in his pants and the way John’s knees buckled more than once on the short walk as he trembled with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

 

In the bedroom John stopped by the bed and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt slowly, letting the material slide off his shoulders to the floor. Bane willingly stopped a few paces away to watch, John’s fingers moving down to undo his belt next. The leather of the belt made a muffled thud when it hit the carpet, John’s pants falling down his legs as soon as the button and zipper were undone. Bane could see the wet patch on John’s briefs where he had spilled his seed and the sight alone had Bane’s cock pulsing even as he watched John pull off his underwear and drop it to the floor.

 

John toed off his socks and stood naked for Bane, much more confident now than he was when their relationship had just begun to change. John was still a modest man but in front of Bane he was willing to show his desire, and seek out what he wanted and needed. Bane loved it; knowing that John trusted him to offer himself up at his most vulnerable and know Bane would do everything to protect John and make him happy. It meant just as much to Bane knowing that John would do the same for Bane, to love him even when Bane opened himself up to share the most private and most scared parts of himself.

 

Bane lifted a hand to start fighting with the buttons of his own shirt, no longer willing to wait, but John stepped into his personal space and took over. Bane stood still as John worked open the buttons of his shirt and pulled the fabric away, his hands touching every inch of Bane’s bare skin. For a few moments John teased, pressing with warm fingers and scraping with nails, and then trailing his hand down to massage Bane through his pants.

 

Bane groaned as he felt John’s hand first rub against him and then his fingers curl around Bane’s length, fighting the fabric of his pants to cup Bane’s cock in his palm. “I bet I could make you come just standing here,” John said, hand tracing the hard line of Bane’s cock.

 

Bane shuffled closer and slipped his fingers into John’s hair, grabbing the short hairs and pulling his head back. “You will be the one kept waiting if you do.”

 

John moaned softly as Bane kissed his exposed neck, hand still moving along Bane’s cock as Bane’s hips began to find a rhythm. “Do you like this?” John wondered aloud, still allowing Bane to hold his head back, leaving John open and exposed.

 

“I love it, as I’m sure you can feel,” Bane said, nipping a line along John’s collarbone. “But I thought you wanted me to take you. Are you stalling because you’re nervous?” Bane released his grip on John’s hair to let John lift his head, his cheeks tinged pink. Bane caught John’s lips for a soft, short kiss. “Today doesn’t have to be the day.”

 

John shook his head, still remaining close. “I’m going to be nervous no matter what. That doesn’t mean I don’t want this. With everything that’s happened. With everything that’s changed—” John squeezed Bane through his pants and Bane bit his bottom lip, praying for enough control to stop himself from fucking John’s hand right into oblivion. Despite John’s bold hand movements, his eyes were shy. “I want to be yours, and you mine; more than we already are.”

 

“I will take you,” Bane nodded and kissed John again, not to silence him to but to seal this promise. After the kiss John finally stopped teasing and instead focused on relieving Bane of his pants and underwear, which also had a wet spot on the front from Bane dribbling precome. When Bane was naked he stepped closer and locked their hips together; even with the slight contact he could feel John’s cock twitching with interest.

 

Again Bane nudged John away, leading him back until John’s knees hooked on the edge of the mattress and he sprawled back on the bed. Once John was settled Bane grabbed the lube and a condom from the drawer where John stored everything. Bane noticed the dildo lying in the drawer as well but decided to leave that for another day.

 

He pulled John’s bent legs further apart and knelt between them, setting the lube beside him and holding up the condom. John weathered his bottom lip and then shook his head, smiling shyly. “You’re sure?” Bane said.

 

“I’m sure,” John confirmed. “I want to feel all of you.”

 

Bane kissed John’s knee and pointed behind John as he set the unopened condom beside the lube. “Pass me two pillows.”

 

John looked a little confused but reached behind him, tossing two of the pillows from the head of their bed down to him. Bane reached for the pillows with his left hand without thinking and groaned in pain when his arm ached sharply. Immediately John sat up, looking Bane over critically. “Should we get your sling?” The doctor had given him a sling if Bane found that he moved his arm too frequently, but Bane didn’t like how restrictive it was.

 

“Can we just focus on sex?” Bane grumbled, pushing John back down to the mattress by his shoulder.

 

Unfortunately John dodged away from his hand and sat up, Bane not having both hands to use in order to properly pin John in place. “It won’t take long to get the sling,” John reasoned, getting up fully from the bed to grab it and return.

 

“You’re killing me here,” Bane sighed. He knew it was actually probably a good thing that they take a brief pause to save Bane from coming too quickly when he was finally inside John. But that didn’t mean his cock wasn’t aching just as insistently as his arm, if for different reasons.

 

“Well you should have thought of that before throwing yourself at an armed suspect,” John scolded, sitting on the bed in front of Bane and hooking the thin fabric around his neck.

 

“I was just trying to keep you alive,” Bane said through his teeth, trying to ignore the pain as John gently helped Bane slip his arm into the sling. Despite Bane’s complaining it did feel better to have the sling supporting the weight of his arm and keeping it still.

 

John massaged Bane’s left shoulder and upper arm; something they had found to ease the pain in Bane’s forearm after a long day. John kept his eyes focused on his task but his voice was certain. “You know I appreciate it. But you need to understand that my life would no longer be the same without you in it.”

 

Bane turned his head and kissed the corner of John’s mouth, waiting for John to tilt his head a tiny bit more to meet the kiss fully. While they had left the police station exuberant and a bit frenzied with all of their good news, now their kissing was calmer and more relaxed. Bane couldn’t mind the shift. There would be plenty of days where they could fuck fast and rough, but today they would make love.

 

The angle was a bit awkward but they sat together kissing for a long time, uncaring of the minutes slipping by as the day filled their room with warm light. Eventually Bane’s cock began to weep with need again and Bane pushed John back against the sheets, getting the pillows under John’s lower back to lift him up at a better angle. Bane really hadn’t been planning on having an injured arm when he finally took John but for now this would have to work.

 

He coated his fingers with liberal amounts of lube and worked John open slowly but without pause. John easily took one finger and showed little discomfort when Bane added a second. Bane merely thrust his fingers in and out slowly at first, spreading lube and warming John’s muscles before beginning to spread his fingers and John’s hole. He took his time, in no rush as John moaned under him and took everything Bane was giving, his cock hardening again as his refractory period came to an end.

 

Bane got more lube before pressing three fingers against John’s hole. John whined but when their eyes met John smiled, giving no indication that he wanted to stop this. Bane looked back down to watch as his fingers put light but constant pressure against John’s ass. Bane barely managed to get the tips of his fingers inside before John tightened to the point where pushing any further would cause pain.

 

Ignoring John’s protests, Bane withdrew his fingers. Instead Bane ducked down between John’s bent legs and sucked the crown of John’s cock into his mouth, suckling with just enough pressure to tease John without bringing him completion yet. He could taste sweat and the saltiness of John’s come from his first orgasm and lapped at John’s length greedily.

 

John groaned loudly and lifted his hips, seeking more, and that was when Bane began to push in with his fingers again. There was a moment of resistance and Bane pushed his tongue against the slit of John’s cock. John’s body loosened and Bane’s fingers sunk in deep all at once. John gasped and gripped the bed sheets, pulling them free. Bane kept his fingers buried inside John but didn’t move them as he felt John’s hole clench and tighten around him repeatedly, adjusting before finally relaxing.

 

“ _More_ ,” John whispered, and Bane started to move again.

 

He fucked John on his fingers, moving them in and out and curling them to widen John’s hole further. Despite John’s plea he was still making the occasional pained sound and Bane pushed in a little deeper, searching until he found the little bundle of nerves deep inside John that had him gasping and moaning all over again. Bane took advantage of this to rile John up while stretching him until John’s ass was gaping and ready for him.

 

One final time Bane withdrew from John’s body, barely able to hold back as John panted and watched Bane with hooded eyes. Bane grabbed the lube and covered his palm, stroking the lube onto his cock. He watched John watch him fist his own length and nearly lost it right there, his hips jutting forward in search of completion. Bane let go and kneeled between John’s legs for a few moments, breathing deeply and purposefully not touching himself.

 

Only when he was certain that his orgasm wouldn’t consume him too quickly did Bane shuffle closer on the bed and angle his cock against John’s hole. Before pushing in he leaned forward, resting his right hand on the mattress for balance. John understood and sat up to meet him, both of them kissing long and slow. When Bane and John began to shake at holding themselves aloft John fell back against the mattress and Bane returned to kneeling between John’s legs.

 

Bane didn’t ask if John was ready because he knew John would insist he was. However, that didn’t stop the noticeable tremble of John’s legs as they framed Bane in, John subconsciously trying to block Bane. Instead of pushing John’s legs apart again Bane brushed his hand soothingly along one of John’s thighs and ducked down to kiss up John’s other thigh. He took his time, enjoying the way John shivered for him, and smiled when John’s legs fell apart naturally.

 

Eager and slightly desperate now, Bane realigned his length with John’s hole. He looked up and met John’s gaze, and while John was still gripping at the sheets, he was smiling. Bane smiled too and let his weight cant forward. There was another instant of resistance before his cock pushed through the loosened ring of muscles. John whined but didn’t shy away and Bane continued to press in until his entire length was buried to the hilt inside John.

 

When he was fully seated Bane paused, giving John time to adjust and also focusing on not spilling his seed immediately at the sensation of John’s ass milking him while getting used to the larger intrusion. Bane brushed his fingers over the ridge of John’s hip fondly and John whispered his name on a contented sigh.

 

“How does it feel?” Bane asked, still caressing John’s sweaty skin with small circles of his warm fingers.

 

“I feel very full,” John laughed breathlessly, bashful but still not pulling away. “It’s a bit odd...but I like it.”

 

“Doesn’t hurt?” Bane wondered. John shook his head and Bane gave a little smirk. “Then tell me what you think of this...”

 

Bane pressed his hips forward with a bit more strength, dragging the head of his cock against the bundle of nerves deep inside John that he had already discovered. Immediately John’s body tightened as his back arched slightly off the bed and pillows. “ _Good_ ,” John choked out when his back rested against the mattress again. “That’s good— _oh fuck_!” John cried out as Bane ground his cock against John’s prostate repeatedly, working John up into a rhythm as John began to thrust down onto Bane’s cock in search of more.

 

Bane was happy to give John what he wanted. He rutted against John’s prostate again and again until John was spasming on the bed and Bane needed to use his right hand to pin John’s hip down just to keep him from dislodging Bane. It was addicting to watch and feel John squirm under him, skin flushed and glowing with a sheen of sweat as he sought blindly for pleasure from Bane. But Bane had no intention of letting this end so soon.

 

He used all of his weight to completely immobilize John, kissing John’s thigh in apology when John grunted at the sudden lack of pleasure and fell back against the bed. Only when John was completely still and waiting for Bane’s next action did Bane slowly pull out until just the head of his cock was stretching the ring of muscles of John’s ass. Bane thrust in and out minutely, teasing John’s entrance as the muscles spread and closed around him, and then he sunk back in until his balls were resting against John’s ass.

 

John threw his head back and moaned loud enough that Bane cast a brief thought to their neighbours and hoped they weren’t home. After that Bane stopped caring because John began purposefully clenching around Bane’s length, drawing an echoing moan from Bane’s lips. Bane began to thrust in and out of John repeatedly, always slow but gaining more strength as Bane first glided in and out of John’s body and then started to hammer against John’s prostate with more force.

 

Bane leaned forward and did his best to hold his weight up with one arm, ignoring the ache in his shoulder as he nearly bent John in half. He slammed into John repeatedly, overwhelmed by the slick sounds of his cock slipping in and out of John, and of their breaths mingling as they fought for oxygen and release.

 

John moaned almost constantly and reached down to begin stroking himself, lips parted and quivering. Bane looked down to watch John’s hand glide over his length, his hole stretched open and taking Bane in willingly. Bane wanted to stroke John to completion while thrusting into him but for now he would have to leave the task to John, Bane’s injured arm still aching against his chest even with pleasure coursing through his veins.

 

Every time Bane pushed his cock all the way into John he was milked demandingly and Bane knew he couldn’t last much longer. John looked to be in a similar state, staring up at the ceiling with a distracted grin on his face, most of his attention focused on fucking his fist in time with Bane’s cock claiming him.

 

The bed was creaking, the sunlight on the wall behind them a vibrant gold. Bane was barely managing to hold himself up, the arm holding his weight shaking as his hips thrust forward with all the energy he possessed, all the desire and love he had for the man beneath him. Pleasure had already weaved into his mind, helping Bane notice every tiny detail about John and yet watch him with a softened gaze.

 

Their eyes met, John’s dark but warm, and Bane’s lips parted. “I’m in love with you.”

 

John’s eyes widened as his blush darkened, and then he was laughing loud and bright with ecstasy. “I love you too; I love you too— _fuck_!” John cut off when Bane thrust against his prostate again but John was grinning, eyes shining as he sniffled and brushed away a stray tear before reaching up to grab Bane’s shoulder. “Fuck, kiss me Bane.”

 

Bane grunted as John pulled him down, his hips stuttering forward as his body fell against John’s. His wrist gave out, Bane’s weight now resting on his forearm and John pulling him down even further, their chests together and their bodies locked in the most intimate way. As Bane pressed his lips to John’s and kissed him the way they both wanted and needed, the way he would kiss John for the rest of their lives together, Bane felt that they were one. Bane inside John, and John holding him even closer.

 

As they were Bane could only grind against John’s ass again but it was all they needed to complete their union. Their kisses were wet and greedy as Bane thrust desperately against John’s prostate, the pressure coiling in his groin building as John tightened – tightened – _tightened_ and came with a sharp cry, his lips falling away from Bane’s as his body arched up violently.

 

Bane’s weight kept John mostly pinned against the mattress, leaving John rutting under Bane as he instinctively sought more friction against his prostate as his body shuddered. John’s come spilled between their bodies, branding their skin, and his body finally milked Bane with enough force to drive him over the edge. Bane tucked his face against John’s neck as his hips stuttered forward, spilling his seed deep inside John’s body where it would remain.

 

Bane groaned as he felt John’s body filling with come, making it easy for Bane’s cock to glide in and out as he fucked an extra rope of come from both of their bodies. And finally he was spent; his arm fully giving out and Bane’s whole body holding John immobile against the mattress. Their heartbeats were in time; Bane could tell with the way his cock and John’s ass pulsed together with each beat of their hearts.

 

His orgasm left Bane’s ears ringing, his hearing muffled and his skin oversensitive and tingling when John brushed his hands up and down Bane’s back. Bane remained where he was, cock softening inside John’s ass and surrounded by his own come until John finally nudged at Bane’s shoulder to push him off. Bane groaned and got up, withdrawing from John’s body slowly. As Bane pulled his cock free he saw his seed beginning to trickle out of John’s body, but before Bane could lap it up John called for him tiredly.

 

Bane settled carefully beside John on the bed, on his injured side but ensuring he kept his weight off his forearm as he faced his boyfriend. John rolled onto his side as well and shuffled closer until their knees bumped together. Bane rested a possessive hand on John’s hip while John’s hand snuck around to Bane’s back. John’s fingers started by drawing random circles but then brushed over some of the raised scar tissue from when Bane had been whipped.

 

John’s fingers found Bane’s scars and traced them; he knew them so well, having seen Bane at his worst and tending him back to health. John’s touch to his back had Bane thinking back to that day when John had spoken up against the violence and abuse and had brought Bane home. Although the whipping had hurt brutally, one more abuse added to the uncountable number of abuses that had made Bane certain he couldn’t endure another day, Bane was glad that John had been there that day. John had stopped Bane from cutting his wrists too deeply, gave Bane enough of a reason to hope one final time.

 

Now Bane was lying in bed with a man he loved who loved him in return. There was trust between them as well as companionship and affection, and Bane’s future looked bright. He had made two new friends in Bruce and Selina – three, if you counted Gordon, which Bane did after everything the Commissioner had done for them. Bane was free of his mask and the abuses he had experienced over the last twelve years. And while Bane would never forget Talia or the pain in his heart when he thought about how much he wished she could still be a part of their lives, Bane was at least happy to know that Barsad was out of prison and finding a new life for himself, and that Bane and Barsad would be able to spend time together as they once did.

 

Best of all, he wouldn’t have to worry any longer about holding John back from a normal life. In thirteen years – what seemed like a long time now but Bane knew would pass by quickly and unnoticed with his new life – Bane would be a free man. He could save up his money and get a ring, and get down on one knee as soon as his collar was removed. They could solve cases together, stand up for what they believe in and support each other through any and all challenges ahead.

 

Maybe they could even start a family together. Any child they adopted would legally only be under John’s name until the collar was removed but legal documents wouldn’t stop John and Bane from raising a child together. Bane’s old bedroom was empty now and in need of a new purpose, and Bane smiled every time he thought about their many visits to the orphanage, Aaron always clutching to either Bane or John. It was so easy for Bane to imagine holding that little boy in his arms, and watching fondly as John taught Aaron to ride a bike, and the first day of school when Aaron might clutch to their legs before finally being enticed into the classroom, only to come home and tell John and Bane everything he had learned that day over the dinner table...

 

“Bane,” John’s voice was hushed and airy, dancing on John’s breath which was still recovering from their coupling. Bane lifted his eyes to meet John’s own. “What are you thinking about?”

 

“You,” Bane leaned forward to kiss John’s lips softly. “Us.” He met John’s gaze again. “Our future.”

 

John hummed and hugged Bane closer to him for a moment. “I like the sound of that. Anything in particular?”

 

“Many possibilities,” Bane said. “But nothing I want to think about more than you right now, in this moment.” John shifted his weight and wrapped his arm further around Bane’s body. With the shift Bane caught the slight crease of John’s eyebrows furrowing. “Pain?” Bane worried, his fingers sliding down and back an inch to touch John’s ass questioningly.

 

“No pain,” John promised. “Just a little achy. I’m glad we won’t need to worry about patrolling. I don’t think I’d want to be running much right now. My legs are still shaky,” John said with a pleased smile. “I can’t wait to do that again.”

 

“We will,” Bane caught John’s lips again, tasting him and memorizing him. “Many times.”

 

John nodded and smiled through his yawn, shivering slightly as he lay back against the remaining pillows by the headboard. Bane sat up just long enough to throw the two sweaty pillows onto the floor and out of the way and pull the sheets up around them both. They would need to do a full load of laundry after this but neither of them could find the energy to care right then.

 

The sheets settled around them and their hands quickly found each other’s skin again, returning to their shared embrace. They lay in silence for a while, the sun changing to a rusted orange colour on the far wall. Bane’s mind was blissfully quiet, filled only with fleeting thoughts of the future waiting for them and a fluttering in his heart each time John’s fingers paused on Bane’s skin. Bane could tell John was fighting off sleep to stay here with Bane, and pressed a kiss to John’s forehead. “Let yourself sleep. I will be here when you wake up.”

 

John groaned and shook his head, eyes remaining closed and his face relaxed. “I know. But I would rather be here with you.”

 

Bane didn’t argue because he felt the same. So they remained in bed together, dozing but still awake enough to note every shift of their bodies and tremble at each brush of fingers and legs. And that was how Bane knew he had found exactly where he was supposed to be in the world, the life that would make him happy and complete. Because when you chose reality over the most pleasant of dreams, you had found something worth holding onto.

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


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